Imprint
by CrossoverQueen94
Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Minor character death. Eventual Jacob/Kurt, minor Puckelberry.
1. Running

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**1: Running**

There was something about running that calmed him from the inside out; his muscles taut with control, his brain focussed on putting one paw in front of the other, his soul free in the wilderness surrounding him. The others kept trying to reach out to me and touch his mind, but he blocked them insistently. He just couldn't _deal _with them right now. Seth was increasingly annoying, prodding at his brain and trying to weasel his way inside.

But Jacob didn't want Seth to know his thoughts. He didn't want anyone to know his thoughts right now. Ever since he imprinted on Nessie, things had been so screwed up. Though things had seemed to work out for everyone in the end, the perfect little happy ending to their tale, something for Jacob seemed off. He couldn't wrap his brain around what it was, what felt so _wrong_— hence the unstoppable running.

He knew he was running from his problems, both literally and figuratively, but at the moment, he just didn't care. He needed this. One paw in front of the other, dodging trees, taut muscles, empty brain; he need this more than he needed to _breathe_.

He had been running for about two days when the voices started fading. Jacob couldn't remember if anyone had mentioned the bond disintegrating due to distance, but perhaps no one had strayed so far from their pack before. Eventually, on the third day of his run, Jacob stopped, panting. One of his ears twitched in the direction of a near-by road, the whiz of cars passing distantly and the sounds of the forest the only things he could hear. No voices, no prodding, no internal feeling of presence— nothing. He was, for the first time in ages, completely alone.

Jacob let his body shift into his human form, then pulled a pair of worn cut-offs from the band at his ankle and pulled them on, sitting against a tree and leaning against it once he was decent. There was something comforting in being completely alone; he could think what he wanted, do what he wanted... _want_ what he wanted.

Nessie was a wonderful little girl. Beautiful, smart, increasingly interesting and wonderful and surprising... but the more she grew, the more Jacob wondered. Would she want him when she was older? Bella had expressed happiness at the fact that he would be around to protect her from the outside world, and that he would always be there for her. But what if Nessie didn't want that? She was a person too, with thoughts and feelings and desires. She would want a husband someday, and as much as he loved taking care of her, he wasn't sure he would ever love her that way.

Jacob stood and began to walk toward the road he had heard earlier, figuring he could hitchhike to the nearest town (Where the hell was he, anyway?) and buy a hot meal. His stomach rumbled at the thought— while he possessed some superhuman qualities, going without food for days on end was not one of them.

He managed to wave down a kind trucker, who let him into the cab without much prodding. He was a jolly looking fifty-something with greying brown hair and kind brown eyes.

"Where're ya goin'?" he asked in a distinctly Northern sounding accent (Canadian, perhaps?), looking over at the tired-looking teenager in his passenger seat. Jacob shrugged.

"Civilization. Anywhere is fine, really. Wherever you're going." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, feeling the strain of the last few days catch up to him.

"Well, I'll be passing through Missoula in an hour or so... I guess I'll drop you off there." The trucker looked Jacob up and down, noting his bare feet and chest, and his growling stomach as it made a loud protest at the lack of food inside it.

"How long's it been since you ate something, kid?" he asked, surprisingly concerned sounding. Jacob opened an eye and shrugged, trying to think of a convincing answer that wasn't the truth. Saying '_three and a half days, I reckon_' would have drawn some unwanted attention his way— a normal human would be half-starved in that time, and nowhere as healthy-looking as he still did.

"A while, I guess," was his response, and the trucker raised an eyebrow.

"That long, huh?" he chuckled, turning back to the desolate road as the trees began to thin. "Run away from home, did ya?"

Jacob smiled, leaning his hot forehead against the cool glass of the window. "I guess you could say that," he agreed, trying to spot a road sign somewhere amongst the foliage and gavel. "Where are we, do you think?"

"Just on the edge of Lolo National Forest, nearing Superior now, I reckon." He paused glancing sideways at the startled looking teen. "Not the lake, mind you, the town." Jacob heaved a sigh of relief— if he had run all the way to the great lakes, he would've need to have run for much longer than a couple days, and that would've meant he had lost track of time a lot more than he thought he had.

"Oh, good," he said, making eye contact with the driver cautiously, though he still had no idea where they were in relation to Forks. He didn't even know what state they were in. "I'm Jacob, by the way."

"Louis," the trucker said back, peering at a road sign up ahead. "Can you read that?" he asked, and Jacob nodded.

"Superior, twelve miles," he said, leaning back and closing his eyes again. "Mind if I sleep for a while? I didn't sleep last night—" Or the night before that, he added to himself. "—and I'm really tired. Could you just wake me when we get to...?" He paused, recalling the place the trucker said he was heading. "...Missoula?"

Louis nodded, and switched the radio on low. "Sure, kid. I'll wake ya when we stop."

Jacob murmured a quiet, "Thanks," before snuggling into the crook of his arm and letting his mind go blank. He didn't know how long he'd be gone for, or how he'd get home when he decide to, but for right now, he just wanted to get as far away from Forks, Nessie, the Cullen's and his pack, as he could.


	2. Driven

___Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**2: Driven**

"Wake up, kid, we're here."

Jacob blearily opened his eyes and stretched his long arms behind his back, groaning and cracking his neck. Lying with his face against a car window was probably not the best way to fall asleep, but he felt somewhat refreshed after his nap. He blinked, realising that the truck had stopped moving and was parked in the lot of a run-down looking diner.

"In... uh... Mouse-whatever?"

"Missoula," Louis corrected, giving the tired teenager a closer look. "Why don't you have any shoes?" he asked suddenly, and Jacob bit his lip.

"I lost them," he supplied simply, which was, in fact, the truth. He had transformed fully clothed accidently, ruining his last pair of runners. "Thank you so much for taking me this far, sir," he said, offering Louis his hand. The older man took it, still frowning slightly.

"No problem, kiddo. Listen, let me buy you lunch," he suggested, nodding in the direction of the diner.

Jacob instantly shook his head at the idea; "I wouldn't want to impose anymore than I already have," he explained, fishing around in his back pocket and pulling out a beat-up leather wallet. "Besides, I can get my own—"

"Nonsense," Louis cut him off, holding up a hand and waving it half-heartedly, "I'm buying you lunch, and that's that."

Jacob ended up eating more than he expected, whilst Louis sat across from him with a turkey sandwich and coffee, openly staring at his appetite. "You really haven't eaten in a while, huh?" he observed, keeping a careful eye on him. "Geez, how long you have been runnin' for?"

"Three and a half days," Jacob said between mouthfuls, drinking his fourth glass of water and taking another huge bite of his lunch. "And I'll keep going until I reach the coast," he said, suddenly deciding that a good run across America would be beneficial for his psyche. Besides, he'd have one hell of a story to tell the guys when he went back. "Then I'll go home."

Louis shook his head. "Well, I can take you as far as Ohio, but you'll have to do the rest on your own."

Jacob looked up at the older man in surprise. "Ohio? How long will that take?"

"Little more than a day if we drive through the night, but I like to stop for a few hours to sleep," Louis estimated, glancing at his unexpected passenger. "You up for it."

"Beats walking all that way," Jacob said seriously, and as much as he loved running, he could use the break on his beat-up looking feet. He smiled in gratitude. "Thanks, Louis."

"No problem, kiddo."

Once Jacob had eaten his fill (and offered to pay for at least half of it, but Louis would have none of that), the unlikely pair set off again on the open road. They were in a less rural area for a while, a good hour of navigating winding roads around new housing developments. When they reached the city's limits and were on the open road again, Jacob pulled a map from the glove compartment and tried to find Missoula, or anything that sounded familiar, on the map.

"We're about here, now," Louis said after Jacob had been studying the map with growing confusion. He pointed to the middle of Montana, and Jacob tried to hide his surprise. "We'll be in South Dakota before nightfall."

Jacob set aside the map, once again leaning against the cool glass. "Mind if I take another nap?" he asked, trying not to yawn and only half-succeeding. Louis chuckled.

"Go ahead. I'll wake ya up for dinner."

The next two days Jacob spent in Louis's company. The drive took a little longer than they expected, because they stopped at a motel and slept until mid-morning for first night; Jacob had wanted to help pay for that, too, but Louis just insisted that Jacob sleeping on the room's couch wasn't costing him any, and that the boy should just be grateful for what he was giving him.

When they reached the Ohio border and Louis was set to make his drop— a shipment of assorted mechanical parts for some factory in Van Wert, Ohio. He'd be going back the other way to receive his next shipment, so they parted ways in Van Wert.

"I'm sorry to see ya go," Louis confided in his short-term companion, giving Jacob a sad smile. "It's nice to have someone to talk to on the long rides."

Jacob nodded. "I can't thank you enough for taking me this far—" He smiled. "You have no idea how much I appreciate it."

"Hey, what're friends for?" Louis extended his hand, and Jacob shook it eagerly. "Maybe I'll see ya on the return trip, eh?" Jacob's smiled grew.

"I'll keep an eye out for you."

Louis felt a bit of guilt, leaving the seventeen-year-old at some random truckstop in Van Wert, but the kid seemed unfazed. As soon as the large vehicle was out of sight, Jacob caught a bus that out take him into the more rural areas of town. It was late afternoon when he reached the furthest part of town, which was banked by a thin but relatively large wooded area. A map he and Louis had picked up on their trip told him it spanned for several miles, and he felt save enough to shift once he was inside the sparse wood.

As he ran, his nose pointed due East towards the coast, he kept his ears open for hunters or campers. He didn't come across any, and by nightfall he had reached the other side of the forest, into a place called Lima. He wasn't quite sure how to pronounce it (was it Lee-Mah, or Lime-ah?), but it seemed like a safe place to stop for the night, at any rate.

He shifted behind a warehouse, acutely aware of any human-like sounds that could be around. After dressing his lower half in the same old cut-offs, he walked along a well-worn road into what he assumed would be the centre of town. He wasn't all that tired, really, and the adrenaline rush from changing kept him walking in a straight line, even though it was very late.

Moonlight made the worn-down town look magical. And Jacob _knew_ magical— Forks and La Push had that quality, just after the rain when everything smelled fresh and knew. This place held a different smell, a different feeling. He supposed maybe it was old magic.

The whole place had the smell of _old_; old roads with chunks of pavement sticking up and dangerous, half-filled potholes; old buildings that leaned slightly; old storefronts with worn signs and posters that were half-ruined from rain; old houses with little picket fences and window boxes filled with dead flowers, or nothing at all.

He paused, inhaling deeply. As old as this place smelled, there was at least one amazing quality about it; no vampires. The stench of the eternal beings that caused him so much heartache wasn't present here, and it was nice. Even in the woods outside of Lima, he could smell the distant traces of a nomad, one who perhaps passed through weeks or even months before; here, there was nothing. Not a trace, not a whiff. Jacob vaguely wondered why they were avoiding this place, but didn't stop to really think about it.

His wandering took him to a school, and Jacob figured since it was Sunday, he could find an open window and a place to sleep in there. (Hey, it was shelter, and he was starting to feel exhausted again.) He found a window that had been left unlocked by accident and opened it the rest of the way, squeezing his enormous body through the cramped entrance. Being extremely tall did have its disadvantages.

Once he was in, however, Jacob was at a loss. It _seemed_ like a good idea at the time— but he had no idea what to do now. He stumbled across the room to the piano— this must be a musical room, of some sort, leaning against it momentarily before heading towards what looked like a closet and opening it.

Jacob could _not_ believe his luck. Inside the cramped space, besides an assortment of costumes and props and an instrument or two, was a mattress. Large and squishy, it was just shoved in the back of the storage closet like it hadn't seen daylight in weeks. Score!

He easily pulled the mattress from the closet and laid it down behind the piano, out of view from the windows. His overly large frame didn't really fit on it (his toes hung off the end, so he curled up in a ball rather than stretch out like he would've liked to), but it was soft, and it smelled relatively clean. His eyes fluttered shut and he started to breathe deeply, his heart rate slowing accordingly. It didn't take him long to fall asleep, but when he did, he had a rather strange dream...


	3. Brightside

___Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**3: Brightside**

His dream started out the normal way, at least in the last year or so. He was in his wolf form, running through the woods of Washington, away from the Reserve, feeling like he was free and flying, his paws barely touching the forest floor. Except, this time, it was different. There was an air of panic in the way he was running. Not like he was running _away_ from something, exactly, but like he was running towards it.

The stinging smell that was distinctly _vampire _burned his nostrils, and he pushed himself to run faster. He had to, or else something bad was going to happen. Something horrible. His breathing became erratic, and he was running towards the smell, following it. He had to stop the vampire from getting something he loved. He wasn't quite sure what he was so hell bent on protecting, but he sure as hell needed to protect it.

Jacob woke to something he hadn't been expecting to wake to: the sounds of a school coming to life. He could hear the clangs of janitors opening up and cleaning, the voices from teachers (and perhaps even students) who had come in early to work on something, which meant... that it was _Monday_, damn it. He must have miscalculated. He jumped up from the mattress and to his feet, assuming a fighting pose instinctively, his senses trained on the outside sounds.

He had to... what? Hide? No, he needed to make it look as if he'd never been there. He quickly grabbed the mattress and shoved it into the closet, knocking down a box of props from a shelf accidently. He winced at the sound it made, hoping to hell no one would come to investigate. How exactly would he be able to explain himself?

Jacob held his breath, waiting and listening. No one must have heard the commotion, because no one came to check it out. He let out a long breath and began picking up the fallen items, putting them back in their box as quietly as he could and then hoisting the heavy box back onto its high shelf.

He was distracted momentarily by the task, and perhaps that was why he didn't hear someone enter. The box jingled as it was placed upon its shelf. "Is someone there?" a voice asked, ever-so-slightly nervous sounding. Jacob cursed himself.

The closet door was pulled open from the outside, and Jacob found himself face to face with a teenage boy holding an acoustic guitar. He was tall and lean, much like Jacob himself, and had similar tanned skin and dark eyes. The sides of his head were shaved so that only a stripe of dark hair was visible, a short Mohawk, and he was wearing a black wife beater and jeans. He cocked an eyebrow at the taller boy, his mouth turned downwards in a frown.

"Who the hell are you?" he growled, and Jacob jumped.

"Listen, I can explain..." He paused when he caught a whiff of the guy.

Normally, Jacob didn't go around smelling teenage boys. They tended to stink like body odour or too much Axe, neither of which was something that appealed to him. Girls usually smelled much better, like flowery perfumes and soaps. But Jacob had developed a talent since becoming one of the pack. His keen sense of smell became part of his human self as well, and he found himself able to tell people apart just from their scents at fifty paces. Bella smelled like vampire now, but somehow softer, and also like vanilla. The other members of his pack all smelled similar, in a scent that was familiarly _Quileute_. And this guy... well, he smelled like Quileute. There was no other way to put it.

"Do you go here?" the guy asked, his eyes staring angrily up at Jacob's face. Though he was tall for his age, he was nowhere near as tall as Jacob.

"Er, no." Jacob paused, unsure how to breech the subject. When he had decided to take a run across the country, the last thing he thought he'd run into was another Quileute. "This may sound very strange..." Jacob paused again, biting his lip. "But you smell as if you have Quileute blood."

_Mohawk_ stopped and stared, raising an eyebrow. "I could say the same about you," he said, shaking his head, "Still doesn't explain why you're so far from La Push." He put his guitar down, leaning it against the wall and taking a step back, crossing his arms.

Jacob was floored. There was no other way to explain it. He hesitantly introduced himself properly. "My name is Jacob Black," he said, extending his hand. "And you are...?"

"Puck," he said simply, rolling his eyes but taking the outstretched hand nonetheless. "Noah Puckerman, actually, but I go by Puck." He disdainfully gave Jacob a once-over, staring at his bare feet.

"Did you run all the way here?"

"Hitchhiked for some of it," he explained with a shy smile.

"Why?"

"I don't know," was Jacob's honest answer. He stepped out of the closet and closed the door behind him, shrugging. "I just had to get away, and ended up... here, for some reason."

"How long do you plan to stay?" Puck's voice went softer, his rough exterior seeming to fade a little. "Because if you need a place to stay, I'm sure my mother would be thrilled to have a Black as a house guest." He paused. "You're related to Ephraim, I'm assuming?"

Jacob blinked, still shocked at Puck's bluntness, and his knowledge of La Push. Jacob was sure he'd never seen the boy before, even as a child— he would have remembered, since there were so few people his age this generation. "Yes."

"Then my mother will love you." He paused, nodding towards the ground. "You can borrow a pair of my shoes if you want."

"I..." Jacob didn't know what to say. The Quileute were known for their hospitality, but this guy was a complete stranger, at least a half-blood, and didn't grow up on the Reserve. But he decided to embrace his good fortune and grinned wolfishly. "I'd appreciate that."

Jacob hadn't been expecting to want to stay in Lima for more than one night, but Puck was a mystery that had to be solved. He figured he could at least stick around to figure out what was going on— and how they were related exactly, because apparently they were both related to Ephraim Black.

It was still fairly early when the two boys tracked their way through the empty school to Puck's gym locker on the other side; Puck explained that he'd come in early to practice a song for glee club, a singing group within the school that he belonged to. After Puck had given Jacob his gym shoes ("They'll be a little small on you, but still wearable, I think.") and a t-shirt (usually reserved for what Puck called 'slushie accidents'), he re-asked his previously unanswered question.

"How long do you think you'll be here for?"

Jacob considered the question. "I don't know. A few days, tops. Just long enough to cool down. Then I'll go home." Puck nodded, seemingly satisfied.

"If I could just run away from all my problems, I think I would too," he confided seriously, walking down the still-deserted halls of McKinley High and shrugging. "Quinn— my... well, I wouldn't call her my girlfriend, but whatever— is living with us because her parents kicked her out. She's got this air-mattress set up on my bedroom floor, so the couch is still available whenever you need it, but yeah. Stressful."

Jacob shook his head. "Why did her parents kick her out?" he asked, hoping he wasn't being too nosy.

"She's pregnant," Puck explained, grabbing a piece of paper off a wall, a poster that claimed glee club was a '_homo explosion_,' or something along those lines. "And it's my baby, so I have to deal with it." He sighed and shoved the poster into a trashcan, shaking his head. "Worst part? She doesn't want to keep it. She's putting our daughter up for adoption, so I'll probably see her once, the day she's born, and then never again. I would've been a great dad, too, but she just..." He shrugged. "She's right. We're too young, and we don't love each other. What kind of environment is that to raise a kid in?"

Jacob frowned. "I'm sorry, Puck." He clapped his... _relative _on the shoulder. (What were they? Third cousins? Fourth cousins? They'd have to make a family tree and investigate before he left.) "For what it's worth, I bet you would've made a great dad. You seem like a nice guy."

Puck snorted. "Nice guy? Me? I'm this school's biggest badass, dude. I throw losers in dumpsters. I push freshmen into lockers. I act like a total douche. I slept with my best friend's girlfriend and got her pregnant because I was _bored_. I'm not a good guy."

"Bad decisions don't make you a bad person."

"Oh, yeah? Try telling that to Quinn when she cries herself to sleep because I ruined her life."

Jacob frowned again. "I imprinted on a baby who is half-human, half-vampire."

This statement caused Puck to freeze mid-step, his eyes widening a fraction. Jacob feared for a moment that Puck had not known all of the Quileute's legends, that he was unaware of the inhuman side of the world— but he stopped his gaping after taking a moment to process and turned to Jacob with a sympathetic look in his eyes.

"No kidding?"

Jacob shook his head warily.

"Dude, that majorly sucks."

"_And _this baby is my best friend's kid. She's about a year old now, and she's already at a higher reading level than I am. And she looks like a four-year-old. It's freaky."

Puck out the breath he was unconsciously holding to laugh, shaking his head. "I guess we both have it bad, huh, Jake?" Jacob nodded, grinning wolfishly once more.

"Yeah, we do."

The two boys made their way back to the choir room unconsciously, and Puck picked up his guitar, strumming a few random cords and plopping himself in one of the small plastic chairs. Jacob seated himself on the piano bench and listened, putting his elbow on the lid and leaning his chin into his palm.

"What were you going to practice for glee?" he asked, and Puck smiled.

"_Mr. Brightside.._. It's one of my favourites."

Jacob nodded. "Want an audience? I promise I'll be nice, even if you suck."

Puck laughed, nodding. "Sure. Why not. But I don't suck. I'm amazing and badass." He shot Jacob a look when the taller boy rolled his eyes. "No, seriously. I am."

Jacob smiled. "Prove it."

Puck began to strum on his guitar, his fingers easily finding the cords.

"_I'm coming out of my cage, and I've been doing just fine..._"


	4. Shadow

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**4: Shadow**

"Since I'm in school today, and I promised Quinn I wouldn't ditch..." Puck shrugged. "Feel like hanging around with me? I mean, you'd have to like sign up at the office or something, or we could tell them that you're interested in transferring or something... then you could shadow me or whatever they call it."

Jacob nodded, sprawling himself on to bleachers like Puck had done. There were a couple of runners there early to use the track, but otherwise the whole place seemed rather desolate. "Sure. At least then I won't be arrested for trespassing or whatever."

"And I'll introduce you as my cousin, if that's alright," Puck continued, his eyes locking on one of the runners and following her form's fluid movements around the track. "Since I'm not sure what else to call you."

There was an unspoken agreement that they were related somehow, but Puck obviously didn't care enough to find a heritage website and look it up.

"Sounds good to me," Jacob agreed.

Students started arriving for school shortly after that, and Puck met up with a bunch of guys in letterman's jackets shortly before the bell was supposed to ring. "Guys, this is my cousin Jake— don't worry, he's cool," Puck introduced him, glaring at one guy who cracked his knuckles menacingly. "He'll be around for a couple of days, so I have to go sign him in as a visitor or whatever, so I'll see you dudes later."

He led the taller boy away from where the football team had gathered around the dumpster at the edge of the parking lot. "What are they doing there?" Jacob asked discreetly, once they were far enough that the players wouldn't hear him.

"Waiting for a nerd to walk by so that they can toss 'em in," Puck explained, "I try to avoid doing it now, because I was tossed once and know how awful it feels— but it doesn't stop them. Besides, Hummel basically paints a target on his head, and Israel has this blog in which he calls us all Neanderthals, which pisses them off. Even though they don't know what a _Neanderthal _is."

Jacob gave a bark of laughter, and a group of girls in cheerleading uniforms turned to examine the pair, their eyes roaming over the _new meat_. Puck winked, causing a few of the girls to roll their eyes and return to their conversation. "Those are Cheerios," Puck explained, smirking again as one of the blonde ones did a twirl and he got a good look up her skirt, "Top of the food chain, along with the jocks."

Jacob nodded. "Standard high school status quo," he chimed in, giving the pretty girls and appreciative once-over. "They're cute."

"Of course they're cute! They're _Cheerios_. You can't get on the squad if you're ugly. It's like an unspoken rule or something." Jacob laughed, and they entered the school to find its halls already teeming with teenager life. "That's Sue Sylvester," Puck noted, pointing out a woman in a bright blue tracksuit, "She runs the Cheerios. Don't mess with her, if you can help it. Major bitch material."

Jacob made a mental note not to talk to the intimidating teacher.

Puck knocked on the officer door and poked his head around it, "Principal Figgins?" he asked, and Figgins looked up, his brow furrowing.

"Puckerman? What'd you do this time?" the principal groaned, his knowledge of Puck's reputation peeking his interest. Puck chuckled.

"Nothing this time, dude. Listen, remember last week when I told you I had a cousin interested in transferring here?" he lied smoothly, putting on his best sincere smile. "You said it'd be okay if he shadowed me for a few days, right?"

Figgins looked like a fish out of water, obviously _not_ remembering the (nonexistent) conversation. "I, um, of course," Figgins mumbled, nodding quickly as if he _did_ remember, "I must have misplaced the paperwork..." He began riffling through the multitude of papers on his desk, looking for paperwork that he hadn't filled out. "You can sign in as a visitor until I find it, Mr. ...?"

"Black," Jacob supplied, offering the dark-skinned man his hand, "Jacob Black. It's a pleasure to be here, sir." His voice held its usual cheerfulness, and it immediately put the principal at ease.

"Ah, yes, of course," Figgins said, still trying to recall some imaginary conversation, "Welcome to McKinley, Mr. Black." Jacob grinned his wolfish grin and then signed in as a guest with the secretary outside, supplying his name and the reason for his visit. He tucked the little plastic badge they gave him into his pocket, and then left the office with Puck.

"I have Spanish first," Puck said, making a mental note to ask Shue about Jacob sitting in on glee club. "Mr. Shuster is the Spanish teacher, but he also runs glee, so he's a cool dude."

"Okay."

They went into the classroom a few minutes early, because Jacob insisted that he should be introduced ("We don't want teachers to think I'm stalking you, or crashing their class, right?") and Puck and reluctantly agreed.

"Hey, Mr. Shue," Puck said, walking into class a good five minutes before the bell. Mr. Shuster's eyebrows went together to meet in the middle, an obvious sign of confusion. It was rare that Puck actually attended Spanish class at all, and being early was unheard of. "This is my cousin Jake."

Jacob smiled and extended his hand, and Mr. Shue shook it. "I've been thinking about transferring to McKinley, and Mr. Figgins is letting me shadow Puck for a few days to see how I like it here," he explained at the teacher's bewildered expression. "So if it's alright with you, I'm going to sit in on your class."

"Sure, Jake," Mr. Shue agreed, "You can sit next to Puck near the back, there."

The next few classes went the same, with Puck's teachers giving them surprised looks, and even one of them threatening Jacob to sit down and shut up or he'd call the principal— apparently just being related to Noah Puckerman meant that teachers feared him on principle. At lunch, they sat with the football guys they'd seen earlier, and the group seemed to take well to him; they even suggested throwing the ball around after school, but Puck had declined the offer by saying that he had glee later.

"Again? Geez, how often do you guys go to this thing?" Jeff complained loudly, glaring at Puck, Mike and Matt in turn. "It's taking up, like, _all_ of your guy-time."

Puck rolled his eyes and dipped another chip into the little container of dip he carried with him everywhere.

"Whatever," he said, tossing the now-empty chip bad over one shoulder in the general direction of the garbage can. "Jake, wanna finish your tour now?"

"Sure," he agreed, following Puck out of the cafeteria and away from the football players. "You know, your friends aren't very..." Jacob bit his lip.

"Nice?" Puck suggested. "Smart? In-touch with their feminine side?" He chuckled. "Yeah, I've noticed. But they're cool, so ya know, whatever." He shrugged. "I put up with them. Doesn't mean I have to particularly _like_ them."

"Why are you their friend, then?"

"Mike and Matt are okay," Puck said, kicking an open locker so that it banged shut as they walked down the nearly-empty halls. "The others are mostly just for reputation. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Jacob stopped as they passed the choir room, freezing just outside the door. Puck kept walking, talking to himself now that Jacob wasn't listening to him. An ear twitched toward the door, from which a haunting melody was emanating. High, precise notes drifted through the solid wood; it wasn't a song that he recognised, but it made him pause to listen for some inexplicable reason.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Puck asked, returning to him once he realised he had stopped walking. "I was gonna show you where the slushie machine is."

Jacob tuned out Puck's nattering and focussed solely on the singer in the next room. He peered in the small vertical window above the door knob, his eyes locking on the small boy who sat with his back to the door, his fingers dancing over the piano keys as he played along to his singing.

"Who is _that_?" he breathed, his eyes following the boy's hands as they danced across the piano. Puck frowned and looked in the window, smirking when he saw who it was.

"Oh, that's just Hummel."

"Hummel?" Jacob inquired, his eyes never leaving the back of _Hummel_'s head. His hair was short and brown, and his skin was pale as snow; he had a scarf around his neck, even though it was mid-spring, and his jeans looked so tight, they could have been _painted_ on.

"Yeah. I used to throw him in the dumpster, remember? Before I joined glee."

Hummel finished his song and leaned over to grab his bag from where it sat beside the piano. He slung it over one shoulder, and then turned towards the door. Jacob's breath caught as their eyes met through the glass. He felt his heart flutter, and his stomach drop.

"Come on, let's go," Puck grabbed his arm and started pulling him away from the door, and Jacob didn't resist, letting himself be pulled along, too stunned to do anything else.

Because he'd just imprinted. For the second time. Only this time, it wasn't on a baby— it was on a _guy_.


	5. Magic

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: Don't speak Spanish, if my tiny little bit of Spanish is wrong, sue me. (But honestly don't. Just tell me how to fix it. :P)_

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**5: Magic**

The rest of the school day went off without a hitch, and he saw no more of the small teenage boy he may or may not have spontaneously imprinted on. Puck didn't notice his relative's distractedness, too busy was he flirting with every girl who would let him.

When the final bell rang, signalling the end of the scheduled school day, Puck led him back to the choir room. "I'm sure Mr. Schue won't mind an audience," he said, smirking. "He's probably been wanting to show off all day, since you haven't seen us perform yet."

"Okay," Jacob agreed, because he was still kind of stunned by the day's events. What had started as a peaceful run through the forest turned into a trek across the country, and this trek across the country was fast becoming an emotional nightmare. Because Jacob was _straight_, as far as he knew, and already imprinted on Renesmee.

The pair of tall, dark and handsome teens and a very-pregnant Quinn (to whom Jacob had been introduced earlier) entered the choir room behind two pretty girls in Cheerio uniforms, both of which gave Jake a long once-over. The blonde one he recognised from Puck's Spanish class, a girl of limited intelligence who had been in a class-long debate with a football player over how to best pronounce the word _cacaguate_, the word for peanut. The brunette was not one he knew, but the way her eyes wandered over his arms and then down his chest made him distinctly uncomfortable.

"Brittany and Santana," Puck narrated when he saw the taller teen observing the two Cherrios. "Brit's nice but stupid and Santana is a bitch. I'm pretty sure they're secretly having sex with each other now that I'm out of the picture."

Jacob raised his eyebrows, just said nothing on the matter. Puck motioned towards a couple open seats at the back, and he got the hint, choosing one of the plastic chairs and sinking into it. A boy in a wheelchair and a girl all in black entered the choir room next, choosing seats in the front row.

"Wheels and Stutterfly," Puck muttered under his breath, and Jacob made a face.

"Huh?"

"Artie and Tina. Never mind. Inside joke, I guess." Puck shook his head diverting his attention to a group of jocks who were shoving each other in the doorway. "You know Matt and Mike, and that's Finn," he continued, pointing to the tallest of the three boys. Finn was a good size, Jacob noted, but nowhere near as tall as he or Sam Uley back home.

"That's Rachel," Puck said, cocking an eyebrow at the girl in the argyle sweater. "She's usually here first. It means something's up when she's late, because she thinks she's like the Queen of Glee or something. And last but not least, Hummel and Mercedes."

Jake's head snapped up at the mention of _Hummel_, his eyes unconsciously surveying the smaller teen as he walked with his friend. He laughed as the larger girl said something funny, nudging his shoulder in a friendly way. His ears picked up at the sound Hummel's laughter, because _damn_, that was a beautiful sound.

"Yo, Earth-to-Jacob!" His head turned in the direction of Puck, who was glaring at him. "Were you just staring at Mercedes?" he asked, glaring in the direction the pair of friends had gone, taking seats on the other side of the room. "She's not worth it, dude. I know. I've tried. She wouldn't even kiss me, and I spent like three days flirting with her."

Jacob was in the middle of contemplating a suitable answer when the staff advisor, Mr. Schuster, waltzed through the door— _literally_— and splayed his hands out in a typical "jazz-hands" pose. About half the group laughed, including Hummel and his friend, whilst the others just stared at their teacher, aghast.

"I've got a new number planned," the enthusiastic teacher announced, tipping the bowler hat he had perched on his head forward and giving the group a charismatic smile. His eyes landed on Puck and Jake, who squirmed under the scrutiny. "Nice of you to join us, Jake," Mr. Schuster said pleasantly, and those of whom didn't already know him turned to stare at the _new kid_. "You're welcome to sit in, of course."

Jacob nodded and shrugged his shoulders, sticking his hands in the pockets of his cut-offs and watching as the group turned away from him one-by-one to look back at their teacher. The only one still staring was Hummel, who seemed to have his eyes fixed on him. He rubbed his neck self-consciously, trying not to meet Hummel's eyes for fear of what he would see.

"Since I'm sure you all know the song..." He tossed a bundle of sheet music to Rachel, who squealed excitedly. "I thought we'd take this practice to the auditorium."

"I love _That Old Black Magic_!" she squealed, and most of the group nodded in agreement.

"A classic," the boy in the wheelchair— Artie?— agreed quickly, craning his neck to see the sheet music. "Who's getting solos?"

"I've divided it up already, so no complaining," the teacher said quickly, grabbing another packet of music from atop the piano and tossing it to Hummel, whose eyes lit up upon seeing it.

"_I _get a solo? In the _Ella Fitzgerald_ version?" he asked incredulously, and for a second Jacob thought he was offended— but he punched the air excitedly. "Thanks, Mr. Schue!"

Shuster nodded and handed out the rest of the music, giving the other boys all background parts. Artie, or whatever the wheelchair boy's name was, seemed a little put out by it, but one word from the gothic girl beside him and he smiled again.

The teacher led his students to the auditorium, watching with Jacob from the sidelines as they rushed backstage to do a quick wardrobe-and-make-up-change; "For a rehearsal?" Jacob questioned quietly as he and the older man took seats in the front row of the empty audience.

Mr. Shuster shrugged, giving the confused teenager a smile. "It's kind of their thing."

"Lights, Mr. Schue!" Rachel hissed from behind the curtain, her voice unmistakable from the other's in its shrillness. Mr. Shuster sighed and got up, walking quickly to a table set up a few rows back and flicking a switch.

Jacob watched, mesmerised, as the lights came down and the curtain rose, revealing the twelve performers who each struck a pose to a beat in the music, all dressed from head to toe in black. Rachel stepped forward, her voice crystal clear as she began the first verse.

"_That old black magic's got me in its spell. That old black magic that you weave so well. Those icy fingers up and down my spine. The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine_," she belted out, and Jacob was surprised at the big voice that came from such a petite girl. She reached out a hand and Hummel stepped up to take it, the rest of the group falling into a flawless choreography in the background.

"_The same old tingle that I feel inside,_" he began, his voice high and perfect, hitting each note flawlessly as he spun Rachel in a circle. "_And when that elevator starts its ride? Darling down, down, down I go; round and round and round I go, like a leaf that's caught in the tide._"

Jacob couldn't concentrate on anything or anyone else as each of the girls took a line or two, his eyes focussed solely on the absolute angel that was the boy in the shiny black shoes. Rachel started the last verse, spinning into the waiting arms of the tall football guy, Finn, switching dancing partners with Mercedes so that she took Hummel's hand, the two friends comfortably swaying to the music.

He took the second last line, "_Got me spinning and spinning and spinning around, like an elevator's going down_," his voice startling Jacob out of his staring, realising how zoned out he'd been. He and Mercedes took the last line together, a chorus of, "_In this magic, black magic called love,_" on which Mercedes wailed the last note like it would be the last note ever sung.

The group ended, the music coming to an abrupt halt with all the performers back in their starting poses. Jacob heard clapping, and quickly joined in Mr. Shuster's applause, standing up and walking to the stage.

"So, how were we? From a bystander's perspective, of course," Puck asked, panting slightly from the complicated dancing he'd been doing with the blonde cheerleader. He was grinning like an idiot, and quickly hand his hand over his sweaty Mohawk.

"You were..." Jacob paused and looked over Puck's shoulder, meeting eyes with the talented countertenor who was giving his best friend a congratulatory hug. "_Magical._"


	6. Home

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: In case anyone didn't know, "Ephraim" is a Jewish (well, Hebrew, but still) name, so it is quite possible (and even _probable_) that the Blacks are Jewish-Natives. So it does work with Puck's family being who they are, so there. Stop arguing, Jessi, I've won._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**6: Home**

"Turns out you get the air mattress after all," was the way Puck greeted Jake after rehearsal was over an hour later, his voice sounding a little hurt. "Quinn has just informed me on how she moved out her stuff this morning— without telling me— and is now going to be living at Mercedes'." He sounded bitter.

"I'm sorry, dude," was the only thing Jake could think to say, patting his relative on the shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting way. "Want to hear something that might cheer you up?"

Puck's ears almost visibly perked up as he looked to Jake half-excitedly, his hopes up. "Sure."

"I think I imprinted on someone in your glee club," Jacob admitted, frowning. "And that's _not_ a good thing."

Puck frowned too, his eyebrows knitting together in the centre. "But I thought you'd already imprinted on that baby half-vampire?" he asked, confused. "Is that even possible?"

Jacob shrugged. "I dunno, but it must be, considering it _happened_." He shook his head. "I think my brain is going to explode. How the hell am I supposed to handle having two imprintees, and on different sides of the country, no less?"

Puck laughed, slapping the taller boy on the shoulder half-heartedly. "You know what? That did cheer me up." He paused, looking up at his relative with a smirk. "So, who'd you imprint on?" His face went grave for a moment, the thought sinking in. "_Please_ tell me it wasn't Rachel."

Jacob shook his head quickly. "No, not Rachel."

"Quinn?"

"No."

Puck sighed with relief, those two obviously being the two that he cared about. Jacob could see his protectiveness of Quinn— she was pregnant with his baby, after all— but the Rachel thing baffled him. Just something that he would have to learn about, he supposed.

"Then who?" Puck asked, yanking open the rusty door to his pick-up and nodding his head toward the other side. Jacob climbed into the passenger's seat, kicking a pizza box out of his way for more foot room. Puck started the engine and looked over at his '_cousin_' for an answer he pulled the truck out of its parking space.

"Hummel," Jacob sighed wistfully, and if Puck had been drinking something, he would have spit it out. Instead, he choked on his own tongue, slamming on his breaks and whipping around to stare, opened mouthed, at Jacob.

"No fucking way!"

Jacob hung his head and nodded a little sullenly, biting his lip. "I take it that's really bad, then?"

"He's a _dude,_ dude!"

"I've noticed," Jacob deadpanned, "Now start driving before someone hits us."

Puck seemed to come to his senses, albeit only slightly, and released the break he had been holding down with his entire weight. He slowly pulled out of the school's parking lot and drove down the empty street in the general direction of his house, his eyes wide and blank.

"Do you even, y'know, _like_ dudes?" he asked Jacob apprehensively, having trouble keeping his eyes on the road. "Because I _thought _I had a pretty good gaydar, and you didn't even come close to tripping it. Hell, Mike comes closer than you most of the time."

"No! At least, I don't_ think_ so," Jacob answered quickly, fiddling with the fraying seatbelt strapped tightly across his chest. "Do you have any idea how confused I am right now?"

Puck chuckled, his tight grip on his steering wheel lessoning a little. "Probably pretty fucking confused," he concluded, his smirk returning as he glanced in Jacob's direction, "At least there's still someone else more screwed up than me at my house then, since Quinn's gone."

Jacob didn't answer, instead choosing to stare out at the unfamiliar dusty streets and tired-looking picket-fence houses. Puck turned into a side street, completely ignoring the graffiti-covered stop sign that sat at an odd angle on the corner, and Jacob watched, fascinated, as the houses switched suddenly from relatively well-kept to run down in just one street. Puck noticed the change of expression and smirked, pulling into a gravel driveway carefully so as to avoid the tipped-over trashcan by the curb.

"Welcome to the wrong side of the tracks, man," he said, feeling rather proud of himself for the metaphorical joke he had made. He hopped out of his truck and slammed the door, not bothering to lock it because he knew from experience no one wanted to steal it.

Jacob followed him out as he grabbed the edge of the overturned trashcan and jammed it into a standing position, forcing the bottom of it into an already-formed dent in the dying lawn.

"Hope you enjoyed your ride on the Puckster express."

"You live here?" he asked, eying the peeling paint and brown grass with a frown.

"It's not much, but it's home," Puck concluded, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders as he walked up the front steps. "Hey Ma, we're home!" He pushed the screen door open and kicked off his shoes in the doorway, barely bothering to nudge them in the direction of the open hall closet before tossing his jacket onto the back of the living room couch and barrelling into the kitchen.

Jacob followed him hesitantly, removing Puck's spare shoes from his feet and tucking them neatly away next to a pair of tiny pink running shoes in the closet he was sure didn't belong to Puck. When he looked up, an older woman with her hair pulled back in a messy bun and an apron around her waist was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, with Puck standing behind her giving him a thumbs-up and a grin.

"Hello, Mrs. Puckerman," Jacob greeted almost shyly, giving her his best charismatic smile and offering her his hand. "I'm—"

"Jacob Black," the petite woman interrupted, finishing his sentence and taking his hand in a firm shake for a moment before releasing it and giving him a warm smile. "And call me Sarah. Any son of Billy's is a son of mine."

Jacob looked over her shoulder at Puck, who simply shrugged.

Mrs. Puckerman's smile faltered as she looked up at her tall new houseguest, worry lines etching their place into her forehead. "My goodness, does Billy even know where you are? You go and phone him and tell him you are alright right now, mister!"

Jacob was hurried over to the living room telephone by a livid Mrs. Puckerman, who kept muttering things about how irresponsible he was and how Billy must be beside himself with worry. He shut his mouth and did what he was told with his metaphorical tail between his legs because Mrs. Puckerman was quite intimidating, despite her small stature.

The phone seemed to ring forever. After the tenth ring Jacob was thinking about hanging up and trying again later when he finally heard the click of the receiver being picked up in Washington, and the startled and hurried sounding, "_Hello?_"

Jacob's eyebrows shot up. "Rebecca?"

"_Yes. Who is this?_"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Your brother, stupid. Is dad there?"

There was a pause, and he heard the quick intake of breath that was her usual sound of surprise. "_Dear lord, Jake, where the hell are you?_" his older sister demanded, her voice angry sounding. "_We thought you were dead!_" Jacob's heart sunk.

"Dead?" he repeated, his eyes widening. "What would make you think I was—?"

"_Seth said he couldn't hear you anymore, that the... connection, or whatever, was gone. He told us you'd _died_, Jake. We've been planning your friggin' _funeral." Her voice trembled in that way he knew meant she was holding back tears, and he immediately felt guilty.

"I'm sorry," he said, only now realising what he must have put his family through. All the wondering, the worrying, the hoping his father must have done... and his sisters had come home, which meant that it was really serious. "Can you—" His voice cracked, and he coughed, running a hand through his hair and trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. "Can you put dad on?"

There was a shuffle, and the sound of a door slamming as his sister stomped her way through the house. He could almost see her, storming around the familiar little house in La Push, muttering things he couldn't distinguish because she was holding the phone down by her side.

"_You can stop your planning_," he heard her slightly muffled explanation, "_He's just fine and dandy._"

There was a clunk, and then the hurried voice of Billy Black saying, "_Jacob? Are you alright?_"

"I'm okay," Jake said quietly, "I'm fine. I'm... I'm in Ohio."

There was a pause, and he heard his father's sigh of relief as a staticy _whoosh_. "_Ohio? No wonder the boys couldn't hear you._" He paused again. "_Feel like filling me in, son? Why don't you start at the beginning?_"

Jacob agreed, and the rather long story began.


	7. Lost

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**7: Lost**

It was later, after they'd eaten dinner and were hanging out in his room, when Puck decided to ask the question. "So," he said, smirking like he usually did, "How pissed was your dad?"

Jacob sighed, flopping down on the over-inflated air mattress on the floor of Puck's room that would serve as his bed. "He was more upset than anything. Until I told him that I imprinted, you know, _again_. Then he was just kind of shocked."

Puck laughed, strumming a cord on his guitar lazily. "Did you tell him you'd imprinted on a guy?"

"No!" Jake said quickly, "He'd freak! It's bad enough I seem to have double-imprinted or whatever. If I told him who it was ... I don't even _want _to know how he's react." He sighed again, staring up at the white ceiling dejectedly. "I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to do in this situation."

"Well, talking to Kurt might not be a bad idea," Puck suggested, watching Jake apprehensively. The guy was huge, and he looked angry enough to jump up and hit something or _someone_— it was only natural for Puck to see him as a predator.

"Kurt?" Jacob looked up, his eyes lighting up. He paused, then smiled wistfully and sighed slightly, shifting moods faster than anyone Puck had ever seen. "That's a pretty name."

Puck's eyebrows shot up, and he put aside his guitar quickly. "Dude, it's really weird when you talk like that about him. Like, it makes me really uncomfortable." He snapped his fingers in from of his relative's face, and Jake frowned, the misty-eyed look he'd gotten disappearing.

"Like it's my fault," he huffed, sitting up and crossing his arms across his chest defiantly.

"I didn't say that. I have no idea what it's like to be in love with a dude against your will—"

"I am _not_ in love with him," Jake cut him off, his eyes wide. "I can't be. I've never even talked to him. I didn't even know his _name_, until just now. I can't— I'm not—" He stood up, clenching his fists. "Ugh! I feel like I'm going to _explode_."

"There's a secluded patch of woods down by the cemetery on Reservoir Road," Puck said quietly, watching Jake perk up a little, attentive. "You can— y'know, _change_— down there, if that'll help." Jake pulled the t-shirt he was wearing over his head, dropping it onto the floor so where it joined a good portion of Puck's wardrobe there.

"Thanks," Jake said gruffly, turning and yanking the doorknob so hard it rattled in the wood of the door. "I'll be back... whenever."

Puck nodded, understanding. And he really did understand— when he'd first found out that Quinn was pregnant, he'd been so mixed up the only thing he could do for days was yell and run and hit things. The plaster wall of Carlo's Poolhall had taken quite the beating; he wasn't allowed to step foot in there for at least another six months.

Jake made a noise of acknowledgement to Mrs. Puckerman as he hurried out the door, making sure she didn't actually see him as he left shirtless and shoeless. She'd probably demand he don both articles before leaving the house, and he didn't have to want to deal with clothes at a time like this, anyway.

He wanted to run, just like he had run away from Washington. He was freaked out, scared, confused, and... _lost_. He needed time to think, time alone where he could just _be_ and not have to worry about Kurt Hummel or Renesmee Cullen or anyone else. His bare feet trudged along broken black asphalt, the colour seeping into the pads of his feet as he headed towards Reservoir Road. He knew the way; he'd come from that direction, after all, and had run through those very woods before coming to Lima.

He was lucky that the sun was setting and there weren't any people about, because people might question his ability to walk about half-dressed with the air as cool as it was. He might've gotten strange looks, because he was barefoot and probably looked like a teenage hobo, but there was no one around to say anything.

The woods, when he reached them, were devastatingly empty and quiet; they were prefect for what he needed. After listening for a moment and determining that there weren't any humans nearby, he stripped out of his cut-offs and tied them deftly to his ankle. A deep breath, a moment of waiting for the heat to pool in bottom of his belly, a leap— and he was home again when his paws hit the dirt, the transformation done.

And he ran. He ran, his muscles pulling taut across his legs and back as he went from zero to sixty faster than any car could have, the familiar motion almost instantly bringing calm to the turmoil of his mind. There had always been something about running that soothed him from the inside out; being in complete control, his brain focussed on putting one paw in front of the other, his soul free in the wilderness surrounding him.

The sky tinted orange and pink with the sun's last gift to the earth before slipping behind it for the night, the trees rushing up to meet him only to be dodged and weaved around, the soft thudding sound as his gigantic paws hit the earth in a rhythmic music only he could hear; it was perfect. Jacob's mind was empty, the worry and confusion ebbing just as fast as it had appeared. He was free.

He ran from one side of the woods to the other and then turned back, retracing the same path he had taken through them, almost exactly. His running took him right to the edge of the forest again, so that the soft grass and cold stone graves of the cemetery beyond them was visible, illuminated by the waning light of the sun and casting eerie shadows over the ground.

He was surprised he heard it over the rushing of blood and adrenaline in his ears, but he did. The soft, heartbreaking sound that made him stop in his tracks, his claws digging into the loose soil to gain traction enough to slow his rapid movements. One of his ears swivelled towards the sound; it was crying, soft and low. His eyes scanned the scene beyond the trees, his gaze stopping at a small figure hunched beneath a tall statue, the granite angel looming over the sobbing person as though she was trying to protect him, huge wings curled protectively inward.

Jacob whimpered quietly, his energy draining from his veins as though it had never really been there. The sobs were low and masculine, and very unlike the singing voice he'd heard on stage, but Jacob still recognised the sound. Kurt Hummel was crying.


	8. Found

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: Trying not to move too fast and be unrealistic here. How am I doing so far?_

_I kind of wanted to have Jake meet Kurt in his wolf form too— but then I figured it might just scare Kurt and that Jake might want him knowing so soon... so I did it this way instead. Maybe they'll be a scene in the future with Kurtie hugging the Big Bad Wolf, though. You're right, it would be cute._

_PS- it's exam time in a week, so updates will be sporadic between studying/cramming for my finals. I'll try not to give up my muse and write as much as a can, though, I promise._

_**

* * *

**_

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**8: Found**

Jacob shifted nervously from paw to paw, watching as the broken soul sobbed ungracefully under the open-armed granite angel, falling to pieces without anyone around to catch him. The pink of the sky set him into shadow, and from where he was, he couldn't see Kurt's face. But his imagination ran wild, adding a red nose and tear-stained to cheeks to his memory of the petit countertenor, and the image just about broke his heart.

It took only a moment for Jacob to return to his human form, quickly pulling his cut-offs on and carefully doing them up. He hesitated by the edge of the trees, whatever plan he had had in mind gone as soon as it had come. He was a stranger to this boy. Kurt didn't know him as more than a face in the audience at a glee practice; how on _earth_ was he supposed to approach him?

Unsteady feet carried him forward anyway, his heart leading him across the soft grass towards his imprintee. Kurt's sobs had reduced to meek little hiccoughs and gentle crying, but he didn't hear Jacob approach over the whistle of the wind. He jumped when he felt a heavy hand drop onto his shoulder, his big blue eyes widening further when he saw the owner of that hand.

Kurt jumped to his feet, hands flying to his red cheeks to scrub away the remnants of his tears. "I— I mean— I wasn't—" he babbled, straightening his jacket and staring up at the taller teenager.

Jake just stared at him, watching as Kurt tried to regain his bearings. A small smile spread across his face as he watched him fiddle with his clothing, unconsciously inching backward, away from him.

"_Please don't hurt me_," he whimpered, closing his eyes and turning his face away. Jake's smile fell.

"Why would I do that?"

Kurt opened one eye, looking him up and down. "You're not here to beat me up?" Jake shook his head.

"I heard you crying," he explained, "I thought you might need a—" _Friend?_ His brain suggested, but what he ended up saying was, "—hug."

"You thought I needed a _hug_?" Kurt repeated, not even trying to hide the shock in his voice. He took a further step back so that his calves were pressed against the plinth of the statue. "What the hell are you trying to pull?"

Jake frowned. "Nothing! I—"

"—thought you'd go for a walk, shirtless even though it's freezing out, and give a fag a hug?" Kurt remarked, crossing his arms defiantly across his chest. "I don't know what Puck's put you up to, but it's—" He paused, shuddering slightly. "—it's not _nice_. If you're a decent human being beneath your unfortunate relation to Puck, could you just... _leave,_ please?"

Jake's heart stopped when he saw the look of sadness and fear contained in Kurt's blue eyes. He felt a surge of protectiveness over Kurt. Who had done this to him that he was so scared of people bigger than him? Jake did the only thing he could think to do— he took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Kurt in a hug.

Kurt stiffened immediately, his arms hanging resolutely by his sides, unreciprocating. They stayed like that a moment, with Kurt wrapped in Jacob's long arms, until Kurt began to shake. Jake let go the second he felt the tremors, pulling back to see Kurt's eyes filled with new tears.

"Oh, Kurt, don't _cry_," he said, reaching up to wipe the tears away as they began to fall down his wind-reddened cheeks. Kurt smacked his hand away when it neared his face, swiping at his own tears with an expensive jacket sleeve.

"Just _stop_, okay? What the hell was that?"

"A hug," Jacob replied lamely, his nostrils flaring a little anger at whoever had made Kurt so untrusting. If it was Puck, he would kill him, family or no. "Why are you crying?"

"My mother died eight years ago today," he whispered, his eyes unconsciously looking up at the granite angel looming over them. He had no idea why he was telling a jock— a cousin of Noah Puckerman, for goodness' sake— about something so personal, but he thought maybe it was because Jacob had kind eyes, and hadn't been in any way aggressive towards him yet.

"I'm so sorry," Jake told him honestly, tucking his hands into his front pockets and rocking back on his heels a little.

"_That Old Black Magic_ was one of her favourites," he continued, unable to stop once he'd started. "Mr. Schuster couldn't have known... it wasn't his fault or anything, but it kind of—" He shrugged, turning to look at the angel again. "Made me want to come back to see her. I haven't been here for... a long time."

"Why did you come all alone?"

Kurt shrugged, biting his lip and drawing his coat closer around himself. "My dad keeps to himself on... _today_, and I just sort of let him. I didn't want to bring it up and hurt him more than he already has to." He shook his head. "He has a new girlfriend and they're happy together, I guess, but I don't think he'll ever really get over her. I know_ I_ won't."

As though suddenly realising he was spilling his inner most secrets to a near stranger, Kurt shut his lips and held them tightly together, as though to trap his thoughts inside. "Sorry. That's... stupid." Jake laid a hand on the much shorter boy's shoulder, shaking his head.

"No, it isn't." He paused and took a deep breath, letting painful memories wash over him. "My mother died when I was four," he confided slowly, "In a car accident. I barely even remember her, and I won't ever get over her either." He looked down at Kurt and smiled slightly, then glanced up at the angel. "I wish my dad had moved on. Me and my sisters are all he's got, and that's... a big responsibility."

"I know what you mean," Kurt agreed, his breathing quick and shallow. He was shivering slightly, and Jacob realised for the first time how really cold it had gotten since the sun had disappeared. Any colder and they'd be able to see their breath.

"Geez, you must be freezing," he grumbled, instinctively reaching out and grabbing Kurt by the shoulders, pulling him into another embrace. "Why didn't you wear a warmer coat?"

"You're not wearing one at all," Kurt pointed out, his voice muffled slightly by the wall of Jacob's chest he had suddenly been pressed against. Blushing furiously, he tried not to enjoy being wrapped in Jacob's arms (which he had to admit were even more gorgeous than Puck's precious 'guns'), and failed miserably, curling into the warmth impulsively. "And you're barefoot!"

Kurt's latter exclamation caused Jacob to flush slightly, wriggling his dirty toes further into the grass. "I just don't like shoes, I guess."

The gasp and squeak of indignation over his dislike of shoes Jacob received made him chuckle, the noise reverberating through his body. He let go of Kurt only to sling an arm around his shoulder like they'd been best friends for years, gently pulling him in the direction of the cemetery's gates. The walk was silent and dark, the sky an angry, starless purple-blue.

When they neared the street, the streetlights' synthetic yellowish glow illuminated a large black SUV parked beside the street and the two people who walked to it, neither saying a word. Kurt stopped, jus beside the car, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets for warmth.

"Thanks," he said breathlessly, his eyes resolutely planted on his shoes. "For... you know, the hug."

Jacob laughed, giving Kurt a friendly smile and a pat on the shoulder. "No problem, Kurt. Anytime."

Kurt frowned a little unsurely, looking around the vacant street with a mystified gaze. "Where's your car? Did you _walk_ here like that?" he asked, gesturing to his current state of undress. Jake stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah. Puck doesn't live that far from here, so I just sort of— I thought it would be a quiet place to take a walk, y'know?"

"Well," Kurt mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Do you need a ride back? I mean, I don't mind a detour if—"

Jake shook his head quickly, muttering a, "Nah, that's okay. I'll just walk back. It's nice out, and I need the exorcise anyway." Kurt looked at him sceptically and then shook his head, pulling his keys from his pocket and unlocking the driver's side door of his SUV.

"If you say so," he said, smiling slightly and shrugging. "It's your loss."

Jake just nodded and waved good-bye as Kurt got in and started the engine, turning and walking in the other direction. He heard the wheels gain traction on the asphalt, and the gentle hum of the engine as it drove down the street, taking his precious Kurt back home. His bare feet scuffed along the sidewalk as he walked down the deserted street, the streetlights guiding his way through the unfamiliar town.

He took his time getting back to Puck's house, doing a few laps of the route just for the sake of walking. Kurt had talked to him, he remembered with a smile, and they had shared the bond of those who had lost a parent. In just one night, he had learned more about Kurt Hummel than Puck probably knew, even in years of having known him.

He must've stayed out for longer than he thought, because when Jake returned to the Puckerman household, everyone was asleep. He snuck in quietly, making sure to lock the front door behind him, and tiptoed down the hall to Puck's bedroom. He opened and closed the door as quietly as he could, laying down on the air mattress and staring up at the clean, white ceiling.

A blank slate. A new life. ...He could get used to that.


	9. Protector

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: A friend of mine, Casey, has made a wonderful banner for my fanfiction, and I am now declaring it the OFFICIAL banner, and she is now my official banner-maker, so if this has the sequel I'm planning, she can make one for that too. :) Check it out! http :/ minky-girl-for-life . deviantart . com /#/d2pse9v (no spaces)_

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**9: Protector**

Jacob woke to the high-pitched beeping of Puck's alarm at seven fifteen, though it only broke the silence for a moment or two before the sleep button was slammed quite forcefully by its owner. Jake rolled his eyes when Puck turned over and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "_Five more minutes, mommy_."

With a soft groan, he pulled himself off the nearly-flattened air mattress— it must have been leaking during the night— and opened one of Puck's drawers. He grabbed a t-shirt and a balled up pair of socks, figuring Puck wouldn't mind, and donned them quickly as he exited the bedroom.

"Good morning, Jake," Mrs. Puckerman greeted as he padded into the kitchen, his arms above his head in a stretch so that his fingers brushed the ceiling. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh, yeah," he replied a little uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck and sitting down at one of the chairs in the kitchen. "You?"

"Quite well, thank you," she said with a smile, flipping a finished pancake off the stove and onto a stack of cooling ones. "Help yourself to the pancakes, and there are eggs in the fridge if you want some. No bacon, though. I run a completely kosher household, and I don't break that rule under any conditions." Her stern warning made his ears turn red, knowing full well that he broke more than a few of the kashrus rules at home.

"Yes ma'am." He dished himself a plate of pancakes and ate them silently, one ear trained on Puck's door for any sign on movement. If he wasn't up in a half-hour or so, they'd probably be late for school.

Mrs. Puckerman seemed to have this realisation too, because when he was finished her stack of pancakes, she went to his room and knocked on the door with determination. "Noah! Get your ass out of bed! Breakfast is on the table."

Jacob smiled and finished his own breakfast as a half-dressed Puck wandered into the kitchen, absently scratching his behind. "You made _pancakes_?" he asked his mother incredulously, tucking into the meal with enthusiasm. "But it's not even my birthday!" He paused with his mouth full, eyes going wide. "_Is _it?"

Mrs. Puckerman laughed, patting her son on the shoulder before placing her own plate neatly in the sink. "No, Noah, it's not your birthday." Puck heaved a huge sigh of relief, attacking his pancakes once more. "We have a guest. I'm not about to let him make his own breakfast."

Puck rolled his eyes when his mother tried to give him a good-bye kiss, obviously heading off to work for the day. He shied away, but eventually was caught and given a kiss on the cheek. "Bye, boys. I'll be home to make supper. Noah, don't forget to pick up Hannah from Josie's before school. She should just be ready to go." She gave Jacob a pat on the arm as she scurried past, grabbing her coat from the hook by the door.

"Hannah?" Jacob asked, remembering the little pink shoes he had seen in the closet.

"Little sister," Puck said between mouthfuls of pancake, scarfing down his food as fast as he could. "She's at a sleepover thing or whatever." He shoved the last morsel into his mouth hurriedly and grabbed both his and Jake's plates, placing them in the sink and walking to his room. "Give me a minute to get dressed and we'll go."

It really did take only a minute for Puck to decide on baggy jeans and a band t-shirt, mismatched socks and his scuffed up runners. They were out the door in less than two, and on the road to Josie's after that. Neither talked during the short ride to Josie's, instead choosing to blast some of Puck's music until they reached the right house.

Hannah Puckerman was little a tiny, female version of her older brother— eleven years old and already mouthier than a teenager, she had Puck's eyes and high cheekbones, dark hair with curls that matched her mother's. Her greeting to them was, "Noah. What's with the big dude?" and her nose was in the air while Puck explained that they were cousins or whatever and Jake would be staying with them for a while.

"Whatever," the little girl declared, her attitude bigger than she was. "I'm ready for school, so you might as well just take me straight there." Puck rolled his eyes, obliging, and they dropped the little monster off at her elementary school before heading in the opposite direction towards McKinley.

"Is your sister always such a..." Jacob paused, glancing over at his roommate quickly. "...handful?" Puck just laughed, running a hand through his short-cut Mohawk.

"She gets it from me, I think. She's still sweet once you get to know her, though."

Jacob highly doubted it (the child was pretentious, not a quality he admired in people), but nodded along anyway. "If you say so, dude." Puck turned back on his music, blaring Matchbox 20 songs until they pulled into the high school's parking lot.

They got out of the door, laughing about nothing in particular and shoving each other playfully. It was times like this that he secretly missed joking and horsing around with the boys of his pack, because usually that led to play-fighting in wolf form, which was so much more entertaining. Puck couldn't do that, of course, since he wasn't a part of the pack, or any pack, for that matter— no vampires meant no transformation.

The laughing of some other jocks drew the two boy's attention. Puck's eyes immediately darkened when he saw where they were— at the dumpsters. In the middle of their circle, he saw a flash of red-and-white Cheerios' uniform. "Dude, Karofsky's totally putting Kurt in the dumpster again."

Jacob frowned, looking towards the commotion angrily. "No he isn't," he declared, starting the short walk over to where they were. From this distance, he could clearly hear Kurt's voice ("_Come on, guys, I thought we were cool. Please don't— Ms. Sylvester will kill me if I wreck my uniform!_") as well as Karofsky's ("_Like I care, faggot. Azimio, get his legs._").

"Hey, Karofsky!" he hollered, Karofsky turned, his smile fading upon seeing Jacob's angry expression. Jake continued his approach, stopping maybe ten feet from the group of guys and taking a predatory stance. "Put him down."

Karofsky smirked, and Kurt's eyes lit up a little. He looked at Jake hopefully, his eyes begging for him to be helped. "Aw, is Hummel your boyfriend now, Puckerman?"

"It's Black," he corrected instantly, eyes narrowing. "And put him down, or you'll regret it." Azimio dropped Kurt's feet, and his white-polished running shoes hit the pavement, catching his weight before he fell on his behind. Karofsky was still holding Kurt's arms, and he pulled them a little tighter behind the countertenor's back, so that he let out a squeak of pain.

"Oh, yeah, _Black_?" he asked, baring his teeth menacingly. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Jake lunged, fist up, and threw a punch in Karodsky's overly-smug face. The bully let go immediately, hands flying to his nose, which had made a resounding and painful-sounding _crunch_ when the fist made contact.

"Argh!" Karofsky groaned, falling backwards so that his spine hit the dumpster, his hands still on his face as his eyes scrunched up in pain. "Whub de _fuck_, mahn?"

Jake smirked, grabbing a stunned-looking Kurt by the shoulder and pulling him away from the other jocks, who had similar shocked expressions. Azimio was the first one to react; he lunged at Jake, hands outstretched as though he wanted to strangle the bigger teen. Jacob pushed Kurt gently behind his body and deflected Azimio's attack with a quick forearm-to-the-face, knocking the hockey player to the ground.

"Any of you guys want to go too?" Jake asked threateningly, glaring down the gaggle of jocks, most of whom quickly shook their heads in fear. One or two of them were sizing him up, wondering if they should risk it or not, when Karofsky stood back up from where he had been hunched against the dumpster. He let go of his bleeding nose and glared at Jake through squinted eyes.

"Scrooh you Black," he mumbled, his nose making his voice sound muffled and strange, "Comb on, guys, he's nob worb thit."

He grabbed Azimio by the back of the shirt and hauled him up, backing away from Jake and Kurt. The other jocks followed quietly, wide-eyed and nervous. "_Freakin' giant_," one of them muttered darkly when they thought they were out of earshot, not anticipating Jake's increased hearing abilities. "_Went all gorilla on you guys. He's nuts!_"

Jake clenched his jaw, but kept his cool and turned to look down at Kurt. "Are you okay?" he asked the smaller teen, his eyes scanning him for injury. Kurt nodded slowly, eyes wide.

"Uh, yeah," he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. "Thanks."

"No problem, Kurt. Anytime," Jake told him, mirroring his words from the previous night with his trademark wolfish smile. Kurt nodded again, and then skirted around him and walked to the dumpster, retrieving his messenger bag from where it was leaned against the metal.

"Well, I guess—" Kurt paused and pulled his bag over his shoulder, frowning. "Will you be at glee today?"

Jacob nodded. "Sure."

"Well, then, good." He coughed, and stuck his free hand in his pocket. "Then I guess I will see you later."

"Yeah."

Kurt turned and left, walking ramrod straight and clutching his bag's strap tightly. Puck approached once he was out of earshot, giving Jake a once over. "They didn't hurt you, right?" he asked his 'cousin,' looking him over for injury.

Jake raised an eyebrow. "It'd be gone already if they had. The perks of having superpowers, I guess." They laughed, and Puck clapping him on the shoulder.

"Karosky's face was amazing. I'd never even try to take on all of them at once— not that the other guys really gave you much hassle. You're like a _machine_, dude." He chuckled, punching Jake in the shoulder. "I wish I was as tall as you. No one would even dare to question my badass-ness then."

They walked into school with triumphant smiles, both noticing the looks of shock— or admiration— directed at the larger teen.

Apparently, word got around fast at McKinley.

* * *

_Karofsky __Translation:  
"Whub de _fuck_, mahn?" – "What the _fuck_, man?"  
"Scrooh you, Black." – "Screw you, Black."  
"Comb on, guys, he's nob worb thit." – "Come on, guys, he's not worth it."_


	10. Angry

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: I'm going to try to stick as close to the show as possible, so __**THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR "JOURNEY" IN UPCOMING CHAPTERS**__. You have been warned._

_I'm assuming Jake and Puck are juniors and Kurt is a sophomore, because we've never seen Kurt and Puck in the same class before, and Kurt is sixteen, but Puck seems older... I'll just shut up now.  
(Frenemies - friends/enemies)_

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**10: Angry**

Classes were boring that day, especially since Jake had no idea what they were supposed to be _learning_ or whatever (missing a big chunk of school over the last few years because of his transformation and their little _vampire infestation_ hadn't made him quite as up-to-speed on eleventh grade science as he would have liked), but Jake sat through them anyway, until Puck decided to ditch third period.

"Remind me again why we aren't in math class?"

Puck laughed and tossed his empty soda can down between the bleachers, shaking his head. "I never go to math class. Are you kidding? _Lame_." He burped and leaned back against the metal seats, watching the ninth grade gym class running laps on the track. "It's much more entertaining watching the freshmen fall on their faces."

As he said that, one of the freshmen tripped over their shoelaces and face-planted into the back of the girl in front of him, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Puck's bark of resulting laughter and following, "See! Told you," made Jake smile. Puck was a lot like Embry in most respects, and Jake realised how lucky he had been to stumble upon him in his run. If he hadn't— things would have been way different.

"So this is what you do on days when Quinn doesn't demand you go to class?" Jake asked sceptically, only mildly amused by the debacle the ninth graders were causing some hundred feet away.

"Pretty much," Puck agreed, stretching out on the bleachers like a lazy cat in the afternoon sun. "I need to relax or take a nap before glee, or else I'll be too wound up to perform well. With Regionals next week, everyone's on edge about perfection, and I don't want Rachel to yell at me."

Jake smiled, remembering Puck's concern when he thought that he had imprinted on the loud (and admittedly talented) brunette."So, you and Rachel?" he asked casually, watching as Puck floundered a little before regaining his cool.

"We were together for a while, but she was still pining over Finn, and I was still really into Quinn— it didn't work out," he explained, eyes closed and once again basking in the warm sunlight.

"But you still care about her," Jake continued, closing his own eyes and enjoying the warmth. Lima had to have been the laziest place he'd ever been in— it was great to not have a billion things to worry about, including a constant threat on your life and the lives of your loved ones. He was usually so tense, but he was able to relax, here. It was probably the no vampire thing, but he felt extremely calm in Ohio.

"Of course I do. She's a great girl." He sighed. "The timing wasn't right. But I _do _still like her." Puck opened one day to look at his companion, smirking. "Have you figured out what to do about Hummel, then?"

Jake groaned, sitting up and scrubbing at his eyes with the balls of his palms. "No. But whenever I'm around him, I just want to protect him, and kill the jerks that made him so..."

"Icy?" Puck suggested, also sitting up.

"I was going to say closed-off," Jake said, shaking his head. "He doesn't seem icy to me at all. Just... sad. And lonely." He sighed, standing and stretching his arms behind his back.

Puck had this guilty little smile on his face that wouldn't have gotten over on even the gullible of people, and didn't even come close to fooling someone like Jacob. He frowned, eyes growing big. "What did you do to him?"

Puck put his hands up in defence, standing up to face his roommate warily. "It was a long time ago, dude. Before I joined glee, I was kind of a douche bag, alright? I might have aided in his bullying a little." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, eying Jake carefully. "We're kind of weird frenemies now, because I'm sure he still hates me for the pee balloon thing—" Jacob's nostrils flared. "—but I don't mind him so much anymore."

"Pee balloons?" he asked, his voice dead cold.

"It was a long time ago! And I'm pretty sure I apologised for that one after we won Sectionals." Puck shook his head again, hopping down two rows of seats and heading to the metal stairs, lazing ruined by the heavy topics. "Come on, if we hurry, we can make it to last period on time. I actually _like_ history."

"That's a shocker," Jake muttered darkly, noting how his attitude towards had suddenly shifted. He was still a good guy, and Jake was sure he would get over this angry stage— he always did— but for a moment, he allowed himself to hate Puck for his past mistakes.

But mistakes don't make the man, Jake told himself. When he'd first met Puck, one of the first things he'd said to him was, "_Bad decisions don't make you a bad person,_" and he still believed that. And that was the only thing making his hands ball into fists at his sides, rather than shoving them into Puck's face, violently.

History class was uneventful, besides the meaningful apologetic looks Puck shot him everyone once and a while throughout the lecture. Homework was assigned— not that either of them would do it— and the class let out for the afternoon.

"Are you coming to glee?" Puck asked hesitantly after class, closing his locker and shifting from foot to foot nervously.

"Yeah," was his answer, and though the jock was not entirely forgiven, that wasn't going to stop him from going to glee and seeing Kurt. "I'll go."

Puck let out a long breath in relief, nodding. "Okay. Well, let's go then."

The choir room seemed tense when the pair walked in, and not because of their own little spat. Kurt, Santana and Brittany all looked miserable, and the rest of the club seemed to be slowly following suit.

"What's going on?" Puck asked, his voice breaking the silence. Santana looked up at him, her bottom lip trembling.

"Coach Sylvester is going to be a judge at Regionals," she announced, although it was clear to Jake that everyone else in the room had already known this. Puck frowned, the gears in his head turning.

"But— they can't do that! Isn't it like illegal for a judge to have come from a school competing? Don't they have _rules_ about this sort of thing?" he protested vehemently, stomping up to Rachel and glaring down at her. She uncrossed her legs and stood up so that she was closer to eye-level with him (which wasn't really possible because she was so short), shaking her head.

"I read and reread the book three times, and I couldn't find anything to prohibit it," she articulated quietly, her rambunctious nature and natural optimism gone for the moment. "She's won. She's going to crush our dreams into tiny pieces, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"She told us at practice today that she intends to crush us," Santana groaned, flopping into one of the plastic chairs dejectedly. "This sucks!"

"Mr. Schue worked so hard for us," Finn said, hanging his head a little. "It's not fair. Don't we deserve a little happiness?" He glanced meaningfully towards Rachel, who sat down again and recrossed her legs.

The teacher took that moment to walk into the room, rubbing his hands together. "So," he said, "I figured, since we don't have anything new to practice today, that instead of our regularly scheduled glee practice, we could hold a Regionals set list nomination party at my place tonight." He seemed really excited over the prospect, but none of the highschoolers reacted. "Come on, guys! We can still do this! There's still hope."

"Not really," Artie mumbled, but Mr. Schuster didn't notice or acknowledge him.

"I want _all_ of you to come to my house tonight. I'll order pizza, and we can just have a good time and throw ideas out there. You guys in?"

There was a muttered and forced-enthusiastic response, but the teacher seemed to take it at face-value, grinning and clapping his hands together. "Alright!" he said, nodding. "So, my house, six o'clock, _don't _be late."

He released the dejected students without practicing any songs, and Jacob followed Puck around back to the parking lot. Along the way, Puck kicked stones from his path, angry and lost at the same time. Jake couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy, putting aside his own feelings momentarily to help.

"It'll be okay," he said, patting Puck on the shoulder reassuringly. "You guys'll come up with a great set list tonight, and you'll wow the other three judges. Even if Ms. Sylvester votes against you, you could still win right?"

Puck snorted, then stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh, shit. _Tonight_. What about Hannah? We can't leave her on her own, and Ma won't be home until seven since it's Friday. Shit!" He punched the air angrily, mad at his own forgetfulness.

"I'll watch her. I wasn't planning on going to your teacher's house anyway— that'd be _way_ weird. I'm not actually in the glee club, remember? I can't sing anything beyond the national anthem. No rhythm."

"But— are you sure? I mean, Mr. Schue will probably be mad at me if I skip, but she can be a handful and I wouldn't want to..." Jake waved a hand to stop him, shaking his head.

"Nah, it's fine. You go and enjoy the party. Hannah and I will be fine on our own," he grumbled, continuing the walk to Puck's pick-up so that Puck had to start walking, too. "It'll just be for an hour or so. What could go wrong?" Puck snorted again, but admitted defeat.

"Thanks, Jake. Considering you're pissed at me for the Kurt thing, you must be an awesome dude to do this for me." He pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the truck, leaning across the cabin to pull up the other side's lock for Jacob. "I really appreciate it, man."

"No problem. But you totally owe me, though."

Puck's laugh reverberated through the parking lot; an unofficial truce had been made.


	11. Bond

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: I'm going to try to stick as close to the show as possible, so __**THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR "JOURNEY" IN UPCOMING CHAPTERS**__. You have been warned._

_Also, after this chapter I will try to focus more on the Kurt/Jacob part of it, rather than the Puck/Jake-brotherly bond I seem to have been doing by accident. Sorry about the confusion! It _will _be a Jake/Kurt slash, eventually._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**11: Bond**

Puck was out with the glee kids at Mr. Schue's house when he felt it. It was around six thirty— right smack dab in the middle of his babysitting duties— when his stomach clenched in fear. Something was terribly _wrong_.

There was no mistaking the feeling; it was the same one he got when Quil had been injured in a fight last summer. That feeling of connection with his Pack when they were in danger, no matter which form he was in. His position of Alpha gave him a much stronger bond to the others, and even with the distance interfering with their communications, he could tell something was wrong.

Hannah was watching something on television— a girly program with lots of people dancing about in dumb-looking clothes— so he grabbed the cordless phone and took it into the bathroom, locking the door securely behind him. His fingers numbly dialled Sam Uley's number. Even if Sam wasn't home (if he was somehow involved in whatever was going on), Emily would be there with some kind of answer. She was usually pretty well-informed.

The phone rang only twice before it was answered by a cheerful female voice. Emily. "_Hello?_"

"Emily, it's Jacob," he said breathlessly, sinking down onto the edge of the bathtub.

"_Jacob! It's great to hear from you_."

"Emily, where is everyone? Where's the Pack? Are they okay?"

He could hear Emily's sigh through the phone as a rustle of static, and his pulse jumped into his throat immediately. _Oh no, oh no, oh no..._

"_That depends on what you qualify as 'okay,' I guess_," she said, her frown evident in her voice. "_Everyone is alive, but Seth's a little worse for wear and Leah's... well, I suppose she's more in shock than anything else._"

Jacob heaved a sigh of relief— at least everyone was alive. "What happened?" he asked, a guilty feeling developing in the pit of his stomach, making it churn uneasily. Was it his fault? Had his Pack gotten injured because he wasn't there to protect them?

"_As far as I know, there were two baby vampires on the rampage just outside Forks, and your Pack went to intercept them before they got to the city. Leah's been the unofficial Alpha since you were gone, and she got Sam's guys involved— there was a scuffle, and Seth was bitten. He says it hurt like a bitch._"

"B-Bitten?" he choked, his hand grabbing the edge of the sink and squeezing until his knuckles went white. "Is he...?"

"_Oh, _no_. Thank god. Apparently wolves are immune or something. He's at the Cullen's anyway, and Carlisle's taking care of him— it's going to take a day or two for him to be up and ready to fight again, but they say he'll be fine._"

Jacob ran a hand over his face, groaning. "You're sure?"

"_Yes, sweetie. Positive. Do you want to ask Sam? He's just walking in the door—_"

"Yeah, put him on."

There was a shuffle and the murmur of background voices for a minute while the phone was passed off, and then Sam's rough, "_Jake. Where are you?_"

"Ohio. It's... complicated. How's Seth? Is he really going to be okay, because I had this gut feeling that something was terribly wrong and—"

"_He'll be fine, Jake. The bite is already fading, and he's joking about how cool the scar would look if he could keep it. Why is it complicated? Your dad won't tell us anything, and your Pack has been really worried about you._"

"I uh... imprinted on someone here," he explained, biting his lip. "I didn't think distance could break the bond, but I don't feel anything Nessie anymore. It's weird, but I think I must've broken it or _something,_ because you can't imprint twice, right?"

"_I guess baby Cullen and you weren't soul mates, then. I can't even imagine not being able to feel anything for Em. Who is this girl that you've imprinted on? And where the hell are you staying, because you left with forty bucks in your pocket, and that's not enough for a hotel, even in Ohio._"

"It's... uh..." Jake's cheeks burned red as he tried to think of a way to cover the fact that he hadn't imprinted on a girl. He failed miserably, so he tried to skip the question. "I'm living with the Puckermans— apparently they're Quileute, and they've taken me in temporarily."

"_That didn't answer my question: Who's the girl? Don't we even get a name? Or are you too high and mighty now that you're off on your own that you don't want to tell us?_"

"It's not like that, Sam! I just... it's kind of... weird."

"_Explain it to me, then. Because I _thought _I was your friend, even though we run separate Packs._"

"We are friends! It's just... it's not..." He paused, closing his eyes. "...a _girl._"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and then Sam's barking boom of laugher echoed staticly through the receiver. "_Then what the hell did you imprint on?_" he laughed, "_First a half-vampire, now what...?_"

"His name is Kurt," Jacob said dejectedly, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's in a show choir."

Sam's laugh only increased. "_A guy? Really? Dude, I feel so sorry for you. How the hell are you supposed to— do you even like dudes? I thought you were straight as an arrow!_"

"I thought I was, too." He rolled his eyes at Sam's laughter, shaking his head. "Goodbye, Sam. I'm hanging up now..."

Sam managed a, "_Yeah, bye_," between spluttering and laughing into the phone. Jake hung up and groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face again to try and erase the embarrassment. Of course the first person who forced him to come out or whatever was Sam. Sam, who would blab to both of their Packs, and probably the whole reserve. Great.

"Are you ever coming out of there? I have to _pee_!" Hannah Puckerman's pretentious high-pitched voice yelled from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." He got up off his perch on the side of the bathtub and unlocked the door, moving out of the way just in time for the eleven-year-old to shove her way into the bathroom and slam the door on his back. Jacob rolled his eyes and went to the living room to replace the phone on its cradle, just as Mrs. Puckerman and her son walked through the door together.

"Give me ten minutes to whip up some pasta and then we'll eat, okay?" she said as she rushed through the door and tossed her coat onto the nearest coat hook.

"Actually, Mrs. P., I'm not very hungry," he muttered, and Puck gave him a _wtf?_ look.

"Well, okay; I'll make you a plate anyway, in case you change your mind..."

Puck nodded towards his bedroom and Jake followed him as he walked there, his shoulders tense behind his back. "How was the party? I didn't think you'd be back so soon," Jake said once the door was closed.

"It really wasn't all that much of a party," he said darkly, flopping onto his bed. "It turned into a pity-fest and a cry session, mostly, about how much it's gonna suck to not have glee club anymore."

"Oh?"

Puck sighed, shaking his head. "If we don't place at Regionals, and Sylvester will make sure we don't, then we lose the club. Something about budget cuts and it having to be worth it, meaning trophies. No trophy, no club. And it sucks!"

Jake gingerly sat down next to him on the mattress, patting his roommate on the shoulder warily. "That sucks."

Puck nodded, and then shrugged. "Yeah, it does. What about you? What's gotten you so un-hungry?"

Jake rolled his eyes at Puck's choice of vocabulary, but answered nonetheless. "One of my Pack was bitten by a baby vampire." Puck's eyes widened.

"Dude, is he—?"

"Dead? No. Immunity to the poison. But it's going to hurt like a bitch healing, and it's going to take several days. I can't help but feel like if I had been there, I could have protected him."

"There's no way you could have known," Puck said, folding his hands in his lap. "Life just all-around sucks this week, huh?"

"Yeah."

They sat like that, silent, until Puck's mother called them for dinner. Jacob sat at the table with the little family, but didn't even pick at his food. That feeling of fear and guilt and helplessness churned his stomach, and he didn't think he could have even tried to swallow the delicious-smelling pasta.

"Excuse me," he murmured half way through dinner, pushing back his chair and leaving the table. Puck's eyes followed him with a knowing, apologetic gaze as he left the room. He pulled off his shirt and socks and left through the back door, his feet carrying him in the general direction of the forest.

He really needed some time alone to think again, but he'd never been so alone before in his life. Life was confusing, and it really sucked most of the time.


	12. Anticipation

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: I'm going to try to stick as close to the show as possible, so __**THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR "JOURNEY" IN UPCOMING CHAPTERS**__. You have been warned._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**12: Anticipation**

He stayed out in the woods all of Friday night and most of Saturday. Running wasn't brining him the calmness he had anticipated; if anything, his bond to his Pack, and to Seth, grew stronger with the change, and he felt the pain they were suffering more clearly. Perhaps he was punishing himself, therefore, when he stayed in his wolf form and ran for almost twenty-four hours straight, pushing himself to the edges of his limits. It was not quite dinner time on Saturday that he returned to the Puckerman house, exhausted both mentally and physically.

"Jake! I wasn't sure if you were coming back," were the first words Puck said to him, running a hand over his Mohawk as he opened the door to let his relative inside the house. "A package came for you this morning."

Jacob's ears perked up, and he frowned. "A package?"

"Yeah. It's from Washington. I figured it was from your dad or whatever, so I just left it on your bed."

"Thanks," he murmured, his eyelids dropping from fatigue as he stumbled into the bedroom and flopped on the barely-inflated air mattress. He grabbed for the little UPS box as it fell onto the floor, missing it by a mile. It rolled under Puck's bed, and his fingers wrapped around it, pulling out several dust bunnies along with it.

Taped to the top of the box was a letter, with a Washington stamp and a return address to Forks. His father would have put their La Push address, so he assumed it was from the only person in Forks who cared enough about him to bother— Bella. His suspicious were proven correct when he opened the letter and he was met with Bella's slightly messy handwriting, addressed to him in big, loopy letters.

_Jacob,  
Hope you get this on time. I put it on rush, so if it isn't there by Sunday I'm going to be kicking some major UPS ass. But to the point: I miss you like crazy, we all do, and while Renesmee managed to weasel the address out of your dad (Ohio, really?), I have very little clue where you are, or what you're doing. I didn't even know if you were alive or not until Billy sent Rebecca over with the news. (I think she's scared of us, for some reason.)  
I love you to pieces, Jake, and I thought this might help, considering your predicament. (Don't be all noble and try to pay me back. Think of it as a late birthday present, alright?)  
Call me when you get this,  
Bella_

Jacob eagerly tore open the package, ripping to cardboard down the middle to get at its contents. Inside was a shiny new cell phone, which he quickly inspected. He supposed it was probably expensive, considering Bella had specifically told him not to bother even suggesting paying her back; but the Cullens had buckets of money lying around, and he figured he wouldn't be too heartbroken in following her suggestion.

Bella had already programmed in her cell's number, as well as the Cullen household, the Black's and the Uley's. He shook his head with a tired smile and lay back down on his deflating mattress, speed-dialling Bella. She _was _his best friend, so he might as well tell her everything.

...It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The week that followed, Jacob barely got to talk to Kurt, let alone _get to know him_ as was per Bella's _expert advice_. There were glee practices every day after school, which Mr. Schue wouldn't permit him to sit in on (something about a secret routine for Regionals, and he couldn't risk the information getting out), so he ended up with a lot of time on his own.

He put his new phone to good use, making sure to routinely check in on Seth (who was healing nicely) and the rest of the Pack, getting updates whenever he could. It felt good to be in touch with them again; they were like his family, and he missed them all dearly.

Some of the news he had been receiving wasn't good news— another baby vampire had been discovered just outside of La Push, which Sam's Pack had promptly destroyed, but it was the third one in less than three weeks. The Cullens were obviously not responsible, and they didn't know who was, either. None of the other clans were anywhere near Washington, and there was no sign of any Nomads in the area that could turn anyone.

"_They're like roaches_," Seth told him on Wednesday afternoon, angry that he hadn't been able to participate in the disposal of the last one because of his injury. "_They just keep comin' back, no matter how many times we kill 'em._"

It wasn't until Saturday that he even really got to see Kurt— the kids were already in costume, their gold-and-black retro outfits on and sparkling as they stood outside the Hall, so early the doors hadn't even opened yet. Kurt was pacing the parking lot, his arms crossed over his chest protectively as he sang quietly under his breath. Jacob couldn't tell what he was singing— probably whatever their secret song was on their set list— but it sounded beautiful, anyways.

Puck was wringing his hands and moving his feet in odd little shuffles, as though trying to practice the dance moves he'd need without actually dancing in the middle of a parking lot. He just nodded and began humming _Mr. Brightside_ to calm his nerves when Jake said he was going to go talk to Kurt, barely acknowledging the statement.

"Hey, Kurt." Kurt jumped, whirling around record fast to look at him, his singing going silent. "How're you holding up?"

Kurt let out a shaky breath, glancing over at the others, who were similarly trying to practice without being obvious that they were. "I'm extremely nervous, I'm tense, I didn't get _any _sleep, my hair is a mess, I keep missing a vital note in the chorus of our first song, and I think my head is about to explode. How do you _think _I'm doing?" he declared snarkily, sighing afterward and shaking his head. "Sorry, I—"

Jacob shook his head, smirking. "You're stressed. I get it. Go ahead and take it out on me; actually, I insist. Yell, hit me, whatever. Go ahead."

Kurt looked at him sceptically, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow to show his confusion.

"When I get really stressed, I usually need to hit things to calm down," Jacob explained, patting his stomach. "Go on, hit me. You won't hurt me, I promise. I've taken down guys three times your size without a scratch." He tapped his stomach again and braced himself, taking a deep breath and contracting his abdominal muscles.

"You want me to hit you?"

"It'll help, trust me."

"But I don't want to hurt—"

"Hit me before I hit _you_, Kurt."

So he did.

Kurt had a surprisingly strong punch for such a little guy. Jacob actually had to hold his breath and keep his abs tight in order to deflect the blows— Hummel had an arm on him, and he wasn't afraid to use it. Jacob hadn't been expecting the countertenor to be so strong; why was he letting those guys pick on him? One left hook and he'd be left alone for life.

Panting, Kurt stopped after ten punches or so and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Okay, so he had strength but little stamina. Jake figured that that could be worked on, if Kurt would let him train him up a little.

"Feel better?" he asked, because out-of-breath Kurt was not one he was used to dealing with.

"Yes, actually," Kurt mumbled in surprise, looking up as a car pulled into the lot with a _2010 Show Choir Midwest Regional Championship_ banner hung on the side. "Oh, good. They're opening up. That means we'll be able to get set up in our green room."

Rachel is already after the guys opening up, talking vehemently and bouncing up and down with excitement. The others follow her and the SCRC guy, including Kurt and Jacob.

* * *

The seats of the venue were made of vinyl and stuck to the backs of Jacob's calves uncomfortably, making a squeaking noise every time he moved. He kept an eye out for Mr. Schuster, who was late in arriving for unknown reasons, as people filtered in and took their seats. He had gotten a ticket at the door by claiming to be Puck's plus one, since his mother was working and couldn't attend anyway. It wasn't like Puck cared, either; if anything, he was glad for the support.

He sat in his seat for a long time alone, glancing at the watch Puck had let him borrow every few minutes in anticipation. After all the judges had been announced, Aural Intensity were first to perform. They were _okay_, but they didn't even compare to what he had seen New Directions do. Aural Intensity did a mash-up of _You Raise Me Up_ by Josh Groban and _Magic_ by Olivia Newton-John, which to Jacob seemed increasingly unfair (obsequious, much?), but he could do nothing about it but watch and hope the judges would be impartial. (A futile hope, perhaps, but a hope nonetheless.)

He clapped when they were finished like everyone else did, but his mind was elsewhere, mentally crossing his fingers for the next group to perform. Rachel and Finn opened their song— _Faithfully_ by Journey— with their signature approach-from-behind-the-audience move. It was a crowd-pleaser, and the audience watched them excitedly as they made their way up the aisle and onto the stage.

When they met in the middle of the stage, the curtain rose to reveal the other members of New Directions, and Jacob's eyes immediately zoned in on Kurt, standing in the back row next to Brittany. His cheeks flushed red as he belted out the song behind the leads, singing their back-up and somehow managing to outshine them both anyway.

When the song shifted to _Any Way You Want It_, the crowd literally got to their feet, dancing and clapping along. Jacob was overjoyed; how could they not win when everyone was so into their performance? _Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'_ received the same response, people cheering for the teenagers on stage. _Don't Stop Believing_ had to be Jacob's favourite, though. The team put so much heart into it; it made him swell with pride.

His eyes followed Kurt as he danced across the stage with the others, barely noticing that the entire audience was on their feet and jumping up at down to the beat. When they were finished, the audience roared, on their feet clapping and screaming in delight.

New Directions had been _amazing_. They _had _to win after that performance. Jake was just sure of it.


	13. Unexpected

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: I'm going to try to stick as close to the show as possible, so __**THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR "JOURNEY" IN UPCOMING CHAPTERS**__. You have been warned._

_...Apparently I have really good foreshadowing skills? Mwah ha ha?_

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**13: Unexpected**

Jacob had been expecting greatness from Vocal Adrenaline because of how much New Directions seemed to fear and envy them, but he hadn't been expecting the spectacle they put on. Their version of _Bohemian Rhapsody_ was breathtaking, and as much as he hated to admit it, the crowd liked them more than they did New Directions.

But second place was better than nothing, right?

When the last team had finished their song, there was an intermission during which the judges would deliberate. They had snack stands set up in the lobby, and almost everyone was headed there to buy a drink or a snack and to stretch their legs. Jacob, however, went in the opposite direction, making a beeline for New Direction's green room.

When he got to the room, however, he found it completely devoid of life. A peek into the boy's bathroom down the hall bared the same results, and he knew for a _fact_ Kurt wouldn't have risked messing up his perfectly quaffed hair in the crowded lobby. With a bemused half-frown, Jake returned to the green room and plopped down onto a chair, pulling out his cell phone. He dialled Puck's phone, but it went to voicemail— huh.

His next call was made to Kurt (whose number he had copied off Puck's phone while he was sleeping) who picked up after a few short rings. "_Hello?_"

"Kurt! It's Jacob. Where is everyone? They're going to announce the winner in like ten minutes and none of you are here!" He knew he sounded desperate, but he felt that way when he realised there would be no one on stage to represent New Directions. Could they even give you a trophy if you weren't there to receive it?

"_We're on our way back from the hospital. Quinn went into labour after we got off stage, and Puck's staying with her at the hospital. The rest of us will be back in time, don't worry._" There was an amused edge to Kurt's voice, as though he were smirking into the phone.

"How's the baby?" Jacob breathed, knowing full well that Quinn was over a month early. He knew nothing about child birth, considering his only experience with it was Bella having Renesmee— which was _hardly_ typical— but being that early seemed like a bad thing.

"_She's beautiful, _healthy _baby girl, according to Mercedes_," he chuckled, the sound of singing and laughing in the background making his voice muffled. "_We're pulling up now; where are you?_"

"The green room," Jacob answered with a relieved sigh. Well, at least Quinn's pregnancy was one less thing Puck had to worry about, now.

"_I'll see you in five_."

Five minutes later the McKinley glee club were hurrying into the green room, quickly adjusting their hair and otherwise preparing for the big moment. Kurt straightened his tie and then walked over to Jake, so stood up from his perch on the comfortable chair to face him.

"We did well. We could totally win this thing," Kurt said excitedly, practically bouncing with energy. "With Quinn and the baby and everything, today just seems like it's going to be full of happy endings, right?"

Jacob didn't have the heart to tell the eager countertenor how amazing Vocal Adrenaline had been, or try to convince him that second place could be just as good (and they'd still be able to keep their club). Instead, he mumbled something to the affirmative, giving him a smile and a slap on the back that almost made the smaller teen fall over.

"I've got to get back to my seat," he explained, nodding towards the door and taking a step back. "I'll cross my fingers for you, though." Kurt grinned and nodded happily, turning around and jumping over to Mercedes to squeal about something or other.

As Jake scooted past the other people in his row to return to his seat, he thought about La Push. Had he been strong and stayed home, he wouldn't be sitting at a Concert Hall in Ohio, waiting with baited breath to see who had won a show choir competition. He wouldn't have met Puck— who was like the brother he'd never had— or imprinted on Kurt, which turned out to not be as bad as he thought it would.

He settled back into his uncomfortable vinyl seat among the audience, tapping a tune out on his knee as he waited for the results. They brought all three groups onto the stage, with New Directions situated on the far left (minus Puck and Quinn). The crowd clapped as the judges marched on stage, the results held between Ms. Sylvester's manicured hands.

The microphone screeched for a second before Sylvester said a loud and cheerfully fake, "Thank you all for coming," her voice thick with some unrecognisable emotion. "As you all know, glee club is such an _important_— and I honestly can't even finish that sentence, so let's just get to it."

Jacob groaned quietly— could that woman be any more horrible?

"The twenty-ten, mid-west Regional runners-up, from Fort Wayne, Indiana, the _not-at-all_ stupidly named, Aural Intensity," she announced, looking down at the cardboard slip in her hand.

Jake clapped along with the others as the group collected their second-place trophy, but he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach while doing so, not unlike the feeling he got when his Pack was in danger. _Uh-oh_. He literally crossed his fingers in his lap when she grabbed the first place envelope, biting the inside of his cheek and silently hoping for the best.

"And now, your twenty-ten mid-west Regional show choir champions," she said, removing the cardboard from its sheath and staring at it, her mouth twisting downward in a frown. "Vocal Adrenaline."

There was an outburst of screaming and cheering, and VA's lead singer literally fell to his knees as his teammates jumped around him in celebration, hugging each other and crying and grinning. But Jake could've sworn he heard sad, soft music playing, drowning out the sounds of everyone in the crowd and on the stage, leaving him staring at a heart-broken looking Kurt Hummel, his bottom lip quivering as the realisation set in. Mr. Schuster closed his eyes and shook his head, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder as though to steady himself.

They had lost.

* * *

The Puckerman household was quiet and solemn that evening. Puck had this heartbroken look on his face that had nothing to do with losing Regionals and everything to do with losing Beth, the daughter he would never get to know. He told Jake the story of Ms. Corcoran's surprise visit to the hospital, and how Quinn had practically jumped at the chance to give their daughter to someone they knew.

The scrape of metal on porcelain as their forks and knives hit their plates were the only sounds during dinner. Even boisterous Hannah kept her mouth shut, her mood turned sour for reasons unknown. Mrs. Puckerman kept shooting both her children sad looks, and tried to start a conversation a few times, but it was futile. They were miserable.

Sunday fared no better, which Puck sulking around the house playing sad little made-up songs on his guitar and Hannah watching miserable chick flicks on the living room TV. Jacob felt suffocated, and escaped the only way he knew how anymore; by taking a walk.

His mind wandered to how weird it would be to be able to talk to the Pack in his wolf form again, when he returned to La Push. He couldn't see himself deserting Kurt like that, but things were slowly becoming really weird over there, as far as he could gather. Seth's bite had finally healed over, though it did leave an unexpected silvery half-moon scar on his left flank.

"_It's cool, though,_" the fifteen-year-old had declared earlier that morning to him over the phone, "_The ladies dig scars, you know, and I finally get to have one._" He had laughed, then, but now he just felt guilty, and sad. Seth could have been seriously injured; he could have _died,_ because they didn't have a reliable Alpha to lead them. Some Alpha _he_ was.

It was while thinking these thoughts that he realised he had walked much further than he thought he had; his feet had carried him all the way to the cemetery where he had first met Kurt, officially. The gates stood proudly open, beckoning passers-by to come and mourn the dead. Jacob's bare toes were tickled by the grass as he walked across the lawn, weaving between rows of graves, absently reading a few he passed.

The wind changed, and he inhaled— only to find that he wasn't alone. The soft, but strangely distinctive smell of _Kurt_ assaulted his nostrils, and he immediately stopped in his tracks and turned towards the aroma; was the boy _always _hanging out in a graveyard? He followed the scent through the graveyard to where the short teen was sitting against the granite angel that marked the resting place of his mother with his eyes closed.

"Do you make it a habit to sit here?" Jake asked him quietly, trying not to startle the peaceful looking countertenor. Kurt shook his head, opening one eye to look at him.

"Do _you_ make it a habit to walk around with no shirt and no shoes?" Kurt asked right back, closing his eyes again and crossing his feet at the ankle. "Because I'm pretty sure most restaurants won't let you in looking like that."

Jacob chuckled and sat down next to Kurt, mirroring his position and leaning his back against the stone plinth of the statue. "You're probably right," he conceded, closing his eyes and relaxing. "Maybe that's why I never eat out."

Kurt made a little snorting noise, somewhere between a laugh and that squeak of indignation he was so famous for. "Of course you don't. Because that would be too _normal._" Jacob heard Kurt shift and opened his eyes, looking to his right.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking at Kurt with concern. Losing Regionals just a week after the anniversary of his mother's death had to be a low blow; he was probably breaking on the inside, losing the battle to stay strong during such a difficult time.

Instead of answering the question, however, Kurt responded with, "Why are you doing this?"

Jacob was more concerned over the tininess of his question, rather the question itself. Kurt's voice had been reduced to a mere whisper, his eyes wide and blue as they reflected the clear mid-morning sky. He was sitting cross-legged, not longer supported by the statue's base, and looking at him seriously, as though the answer to the universe was about to be revealed.

"Why am I doing what?" Jake asked, because while Kurt looked distinctly uncomfortable, he had no clue what he was doing wrong.

"Being nice to me!" Kurt said, moving his hands around haphazardly to try to explain. "Acting like you're my friend! Following me to my mother's grave! All of it! Why are you _doing _this?"

"You're mad at me for being nice to you?" Jake was so confused.

"Yes! No. Oh, I don't _know._" Kurt sighed, putting his index fingers to him temples and rubbing small circles there, as if to relieve a headache. "Look, you show up out of nowhere and all of a sudden start acting like my best friend. What the hell am I _supposed_ to think?"

"That I like you?" Jacob suggested, reaching out to stop Kurt's hands from rubbing holes in his temples, he was pressing so hard. His hands were so small, they easily were covered by his much larger ones as he pulled them away from Kurt's face to be held between them.

Kurt stared at their joined hands for a minute, the gears in his head turning. "You... what? Are you screwing with me? Because I _swear_—" Whatever threat he had been planning to make was cut off when Jake leaned in and captured his lips, claiming him as his own.

To say that there were fireworks as their lips met would have been a lie, but to say that there was nothing special about the kiss would have been a worse one. It was a little awkward, because Kurt had never kissed a boy before and had no idea what he was doing, and their noses and teeth collided a few times as they tried to adjust the angle, but there was a _connection_ there. If someone had told Jacob that he'd be kissing another guy six months before, he would never have believed them. But now that it was happening, it felt so natural, so _easy,_ that he wondered what the hell had been stopping him.

They pulled apart, and Kurt's eyes were so big they could have been compared to saucers. He blinked a few times in rapid succession, his breathing hitching a little. "So you really, um...?"

"Yeah," Jacob breathed, letting go of one of Kurt's hands to reach up and brush the pad of his thumb over Kurt's cheekbone, chuckling softly. "Yeah, I _really_ like you."

Hesitantly, Kurt leaned in and kissed him again, softly, his free hand lightly placed on the centre of Jake's chest, over his rapidly beating heart. He could _totally_ get used to this.


	14. Sounds

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: I'm going to try to stick as close to the show as possible, so __**THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR "JOURNEY" IN UPCOMING CHAPTERS**__. You have been warned._

_All happy endings from "_Journey"_ aside, the major drama of this fic will _soon_ commence, for those of you who have been waiting my sinister secret surprise. (Jess & Casey) I just hope I can pull this off right!_

_Also: __You ask and you shall receive__. There are couple of scenes coming up that I wasn't planning, but I wrote/am going to write just for my reviewers' reading pleasure, just because you asked..._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**14: Sounds**

Monday morning brought a soft drizzle of light rain that just seemed to dampen everyone's mood further. Rachel had called them all in early for a glee practice, and though most had protested against it, everyone showed up when she said it was for Mr. Schue.

Rachel's choice of song could not have been more fitting; Jacob had never heard it before, but as he sat in on their early-morning practice on Monday, he nearly cried. It was heartbreaking, and felt unscripted and real. _To Sir, With Love_ had to have been written for them, for this moment, because anything else was ludicrous.

Jacob's eyes were fixed on Kurt the entire time, watching as a tear slowly made its way down his cheek after he did his small solo. When they were finished rehearsing, he offered to walk Kurt to first period, but he shook his head and said he wasn't going.

"Why not?"

"I just can't _deal_ with the War of 1812 right now," was his quiet response as he pulled on the bottom of his black-and-white striped tie, biting back tears. "This is going to be New Direction's _last performance_, Jacob, and I know you haven't been here very long, but _surely _you realise how awful that is? How much of a ... of a _waste_?"

Cautiously, as though he was afraid to break him, Jacob wrapped his arms around Kurt in a comforting hug. "I know," he said, holding Kurt close to his chest as the shorter teen began to cry gently into the t-shirt he had borrowed from Puck. "I'm sorry."

"It's not _fair._"

"Shh, I know."

The bell rang, but neither moved from where they stood behind the curtain, held in each other's embrace, the sounds of their breath and muffled sobs filling the empty auditorium completely.

* * *

Jacob didn't want to impose, so that day after school when Puck was headed toward the auditorium to perform their song for Mr. Schue, he took a detour and began to walk around the school grounds, enjoying the sunshine. That morning had been the first hint of rain he'd seen in Lima yet, and even then it didn't last very long, or rain very hard, leaving only the faintest trace of a rainbow across the now-cloudless sky. The grass was still damp, though, and he took off Puck's shoes to dig his toes into the moist earth with a soft squishing sound.

"I figured you'd be out here," a very familiar soft voice said, and Jacob turned to meet Kurt's eyes with his signature wolfish smile plastered to his face. "You really _don't _like shoes, huh?"

Jacob laughed, shaking his head. "No, not really." He wriggled his bare feet into the soil experimentally. "How'd it go?"

Kurt shrugged, putting his hands in his trouser pockets. "I didn't cry this time, at least." He chuckled awkwardly, shaking his head. "Mr. Schuster seemed to really appreciate it, and we had a good time. It was a great send-off, but it feels like a hallow victory, because it's _really _over now."

Jacob reached out and took Kurt's hand, running his thumb over the boy's soft knuckles. Kurt looked down at their joined hands, still marvelling at the fact that he was holding hands with someone who wasn't Brittany. A small smile graced his face, and he tightened his hold on Jacob's fingers a little.

"Do you need a ride home?" Kurt asked, looking as though he never wanted to let go of Jacob's hand, _ever_. Usually, he would have automatically said yes to the offer, but he had promised to wait for Puck outside so they could ride home together and pick up Hannah from school at three thirty.

"I can't. Puck—"

"—told me to tell you that he'd be staying back with Mr. Schuster for a while, and to go on without him," Kurt said, cutting Jacob off. His smile increased ten-fold, his eyes glinting a little in the sun. "I figured we could hang out somewhere that wasn't full of dead people and old memories, for once."

Jacob laughed, giving Kurt's hand a little squeeze. "Alright." He let go of his hand to pull on Puck's sneakers, glad that they were loose and he didn't have to untie them.

Kurt bit his lip, thinking it over. "Do you... want to go somewhere, or would that be too weird, being in public?"

Jacob's face fell, his smile fading into a frown. "Why would you ever think that? If I'm going to do this, I'm not doin' it half-assed and in the closet," he decided out loud, knowing for a fact it was the truth without even having to think about. "I'd take you out to dinner, but I don't have any cash... would the park be okay? Or we could go to the—" This time it was he who was silenced with a kiss, as Kurt grabbed his collar to pull him down to a reachable height.

"You're amazing," Kurt breathed as he pulled away, releasing his hold on the collar of Puck's shirt. "Where have you been _hiding_ all my life?"

"La Push, Washington," he replied with a smirk.

Kurt chuckled, taking his hand again and leading him towards the deserted school parking lot. "I was being facetious, but what kind of place is called _La Push_?"

"It's a native reserve just outside of Forks." When Kurt's confusion only increased, he sighed. "Of course you don't know where Forks is."

"There's actually a _city _named after an eating utensil?"

"Yep. It's on the Washington coast, about a forty miles south of the Canadian border."

Kurt let go of his hand to riffle through his bag, pulling out his keys and hitting a button to unlock the doors of his shiny black Navigator. "Go on, get in. She doesn't bite," he joked as Jacob examined the car, slightly in awe. The last time he had seen it, it was night time and too dark to distinguish make and model. Now he could admire the beauty of a car in daylight, and he was rather stunned.

"You have a Lincoln Navigator," he said, letting out a low whistle. "V-8 cylinder configuration, with three hundred and ten horse power at fifty-one hundred RPM." Kurt smiled and shook his head as Jacob rattled off facts about the car, looking at it like it was the Holy Grail.

"She's my baby," he confirmed, using his sleeve to polish a smudge off the hood. "Now get in before I leave you behind."

Jacob meekly climbed into the passenger's seat, surprised at how much head room there was. He didn't even have to duck, like he did to get into Puck's pick-up truck. He ran his fingers along the edge of the leather seat, his eyes wide.

"Do up your seatbelt. I will not have your death on my head just because you're too busy ogling the upholstery to remember to do it on your own."

He followed orders again, pulling the strap tight across his chest and doing up the buckle. "Cars like this are nonexistent where I come from," he explained, fingers fingertips exploring the dashboard gently, as though the whole thing would crumble beneath his touch. "I made my first car out of a bunch of spare parts... it turned into Volkswagen Rabbit, sort of."

Kurt looked at him, smiling as he pulled carefully out of the lot and into the street. "My dad owns a garage, so I've pretty much been fixing cars since I could walk," he confided in Jake, a secret that few people outside his family knew. Keeping up his flawless, fashionista image was hard enough as it was; if people knew he knew cars, that he wore overalls and slaved over hot engines and got grease on his hands, the illusion he had spent so long building up would be shattered.

"_You_ know cars?" he asked almost incredulously, and with a giddy tone to his voice, his wolfish grin making another appearance. "That's _amazing_. Could you seriously _be_ any more perfect?"

Kurt blushed, turning his attention back to the road ahead of him. "I'm _hardly_ perf—"

"Oh, shut up. You totally are."

A few moments of complete silence went by, and Kurt turned on the radio to fill the void. The quiet hum of his _Wicked _soundtrack sound track coming over the speakers. "Is it okay if we stop by my place first so I can change?" he asked quietly after a few minutes, tapping on the steering wheel with two fingers while they waited for a red light to pass. "People tend to stare when I wear some of my more... _creative_ outfits outside of school, and I think the sailor hat counts."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Jacob replied, fiddling with a loose string on his cut-offs. "If you want to."

Kurt nodded, turning down a street that held rows of well-kept houses, with flowering gardens and green grass, an upscale neighbourhood. Jacob hadn't really thought about it, but with all Kurt's undoubtedly pricy designer clothes, and his Navigator, his family must be much better off than Puck's.

They pulled into the driveway of a modest looking house, the garden smaller and less well-kept as the neighbour's counterparts. Kurt cut the engine and looked at him expectantly, nodding towards the house.

"You can come in, if you want. My dad's car isn't here."

Jacob nodded, undoing his seatbelt and getting out of the vehicle, following Kurt up the paved walkway and up the steps to the front door. He deftly unlocked the door and let Jacob inside, smiling and ushering him as though he was afraid it was about to rain outside.

"My room is in the basement," he said, pointing to a white door beside the stairs that led upward. "You can wait up here; I won't be long, honest." He scampered off before Jacob could reply, dashing through the door and closing it behind him, leaving Jacob alone.

He took the opportunity to take a look around. He pulled off his shoes and took a step into the living room off the foyer, surprised at what he saw. The warm, homey décor was not exactly what he had expected from Kurt, though he supposed the colour scheme did all work together, with all warm tones of cream and gold and brown and red.

The cream sofa and mix-matched arm chairs were centered around a large, black television that seemed rather imposing and didn't really fit in with the rest of the little homey touches— an oak coffee table, a mantle decorated with family photos and honey-coloured candles, new furniture and antiques mixed together and giving the place a well-lived-in feel.

Jacob gravitated towards the mantle, his eyes scanning the photographs with a fond smile. In most of them, Kurt was just a young boy— still easily recognisable by his blue-green eyes and round face that hadn't changed since growing up— and in some of them, he was accompanied by who Jake assumed were his parents. Mr. Hummel was tall and imposing, broad-shouldered and strong; Kurt's mother was his opposite, small and delicate, with long dark-blonde hair and a sweet, motherly smile.

Jacob picked up a photograph of the three of them, running his thumb along the edge of the wooden frame. Kurt was maybe five, standing between his parents with one of their hands in each of his tiny ones. His mother was laughing, and in the background he could see a sign advertising the new arrival of some kind of monkey to the Ohio Zoo. They looked happy.

There was a soft _thud_, which startled him from his observation, and then the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock and the front door opening. Panicking, Jacob quickly replaced the photograph in its place, marked by a dark absence of dust on the mantle. There sigh, and two soft _thump_s as shoes were discarded, and then a sharp intake of breath.

Jacob didn't even have to turn around to know that it was Mr. Hummel who demanded in a deep, imposing voice, "Who are you and what the _hell _are you doing in my house?"


	15. Nerves

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: I'm going to try to stick as close to the show as possible, so __**THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR "JOURNEY" IN UPCOMING CHAPTERS**__. You have been warned._

Poll Question: If I ever end up giving Puck some lovin' by the end of this shindig, should he get Rachel or Quinn? Vote in your reviews or send me a note or whatever.

_This is a Kurt-centered chapter, because Jessi requested it. So, yeah. Here!_

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**14: Nerves**

"_Who are you and what the _hell _are you doing in my house?_"

Kurt heard his father's booming voice from the bottom of the basement stairs, freshly dressed in a pair of dark-wash designer jeans and a gray cashmere button-up sweater. He quickly ascended the stairs, his heart sinking into his stomach. His father wasn't supposed to be home for _hours_...

"I, er, uh..." Jacob was stuttering, his mind achingly blank. How hard was it to say Kurt had brought him over?

"Dad!" Kurt burst through the basement door, slightly out of breath from his sprint up the stairs. Burt Hummel turned to his son, his expression softening for a moment before turning into a look of anger once more.

"Kurt, why is there a strange boy in our house?" His words were clipped and emotionless, and his back was rigid and straight.

"May I have a word with you in private?" Kurt said almost daintily, grabbing his father by the arm and dragging him into the kitchen. "_Sorry,_" he mouthed over his shoulder to Jacob, who was still standing rather stunned in the middle of the Hummel's living room. Burt Hummel was even more extremely intimidating in real life than he was in pictures, and that was saying something.

Jacob could hear Kurt's voice whisper-yelling at his father in the sternest tone he could muster (which wasn't all that stern, truth be told), and while he only caught a couple of words, he figured that Kurt was telling his dad off for 'scaring' him. He inwardly scoffed— he wasn't scared of a _human_, not matter how frightening looking he might be. (Well, okay, maybe he was a _little_; but that was probably more due to the fact that he was Kurt's dad, rather than being afraid of physical harm from him.)

The twosome returned from the kitchen, both looking emotionally fatigued. Kurt's father gave Jacob a quick examination, and then focused on his face, meeting his eyes with ones that were identical to Kurt's. "You hurt my boy and I will personally castrate you," were the first words he said directly to Jacob, and Jacob's eyebrows shot up in response.

"_Dad!_" Kurt squealed, once again failing on the being-stern part. "I told you to be _nice_ to him!"

"It's okay, Kurt," Jacob said quietly, trying to calm his nerves by smiling a little and offering his hand for Burt to shake. "Jacob Black. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir." It was a good thing he was so naturally charismatic, and he'd seen lots of movies where _meeting the parents_ was done successfully.

Burt eyed his hand and then took it firmly, giving it one pump in the air before letting go and retracting his hand quickly, letting it fall to his side. The protective father shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking down at his son and then back up at Jake.

"The threat still stands."

Jacob nodded. "Duly noted, sir." Kurt was wearing a horrified look, stuck somewhere between shock and mortification over his father's behaviour. "I'll have him home by dinner time, and I'm sure he'll call you if that changes."

With one last nod in the imposing mechanic's direction, he carelessly flung an arm around Kurt's shoulders and led him into the foyer, having to gently push him to get his feet to move. He stepped into his shoes in one swift motion and had them out the door before Burt could say anything to the contrary.

"I can't believe you just— I am so sorry, Jacob," Kurt gushed once they were back in the car, his cheeks tinted pink as he began pulling out of the gravel driveway and into the street. "I wasn't planning on introducing you so soon, and well... not like _that_, at any rate."

Jacob just chuckled, patting Kurt's knee. "It wasn't _that _bad."

Kurt's cheeks pinked up in a blush as he swatted Jake's hand away at a red light, scowling incredulously. "It was horrible!"

"It could have been worse," Jacob reminded him, tapping along to the soft music from the radio on the dashboard, keeping time with the melody of a pop song he didn't recognise. "He could have walked in on... y'know. Other stuff." He waggled his eyebrows a little for emphasis. Kurt's blush was steadily increasing, spreading to the tips of his ears and down his neck, disappearing beneath cashmere. For Jake it was just amusing, watching the boy squirm a little in his seat. "_That _would have been worse."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed quietly, "That would have been worse."

He turned the steering wheel sharply to pull into a parking lot at the edge of a great expanse of green. Just beyond a small thicket of trees at the edge of the parking lot was a swing set and a few climbers, monkey bars, the works, and a concrete path led over to the climbers and then beyond them, to the soccer fields and what looked like a rather large man-made pond. The entire place was devoid of life except for a few older couples holding hands over by the pond, and a little family kicking around a soccer ball out on the fields.

Jacob didn't expect to have so much fun just hanging out with Kurt at a park, but he really ended up enjoying himself on their makeshift date. He pushed Kurt on the swings for a while, just because it seemed like a couple-ly-thing to do (Kurt admitted that he'd never really been in a relationship before, so he had no idea what was considered 'couple-ly.') and they sat down near the water and skipped stones, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.

No one gave them any hassle for holding hands in public (a welcome reprieve from Kurt's daily abuse on the account of being gay) and since it was rather windy, there weren't any small children about with parents to bitch at them. Kurt complained about his hair getting messed up by the frequent gusts, so Jacob ruffled his hair, earning an indignant squeak, just for something to do.

It was six thirty when Kurt got home, blissfully smiling over the sweetness of the day. If it hadn't been for glee club getting cancelled, and putting on their final performance, he may have put it on his list of _the most_ _wonderful experiences of my life_. As it was, his father was waiting up for him, sitting in the living room with the TV on low volume. He looked up when Kurt came in, frowning and looking up at the clock.

"How'd it go?" he asked his son, grabbing the remote and muting the Discovery Channel Special he had been watching, since it was shark week.

"You were waiting for me to get home?"

"As your father, it's kind of my duty to wait for you to get back from your first date." Burt rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortably observing his son's messy hair. (It looked like sex hair, and he was definitely not ready to have _that talk_ with his gay sixteen-year-old.) "Did you, eh, have a good time with what's-his-face?"

Kurt sighed, hanging up his coat on the hook by the door and nodded, shuffling into the living room almost nervously, his good mood already feeling dampened. "His name is Jacob, and yes, I had a good time, besides the fact that the wind completely _ruined _my hair, that is." He patted the messy locks broken-heartedly, and Burt sighed, glad that he wouldn't need to have _that talk_ with his son just yet.

"Well, that's... good. That you had a good time, I mean, not about your hair—" Burt shook his head, standing up and tossing the remote onto the couch. "I was thinking we could order-in tonight. How does Chinese sound?"

"As long as you get me—"

"—extra chicken fried rice. I know the drill, Kurt."

Kurt nodded once, turning and opening the door to the basement. "Call me when it gets here," he called over his shoulder as he stormed down the stairs, "I have some major hair-damage to repair!" Burt laughed and swiped the phone off its cradle, dialling the familiar number for the take-out. He would have to further interrogate Kurt's new— he almost shuddered to think the intimidating word— _boyfriend_, but for right now, Kurt seemed happy, and that made him happy too.

* * *

That morning, after his face had been moisturized, his hair styled to immaculacy, his outfit picked out to be form-fitting and fierce, Kurt was ready to take on the day. He was just fixing himself a quick breakfast when his dad walked into the kitchen dressed wearing his pyjamas— which was a nice way of saying an old college t-shirt, mix-matched socks and plaid boxer shorts— and a determined expression, and said, "Kurt, we've got to talk."

Kurt frowned, stirring his tea thoughtfully and then tapping the spoon on the side . "What about?" He took a sip of the warm beverage, a chamomile and lavender blend perfect for settling his nerves, and looked up at his father, who was pouring himself a glass of orange juice from the carton.

"Your... boyfriend."

Kurt choked on his drink, forcefully putting the cup back down on the counter and grabbing a napkin to wipe tea from the underside of his nose. Of course his father would want to talk about him dating, and of course, it was going to be really uncomfortable.

"We're not— I mean—" He folded the napkin neatly before continuing, keeping his eyes locked on the dirtied white square. "I wouldn't call him that yet. It was _one date_, dad."

"Are you planning on seeing him again?"

The question made Kurt look up in surprise, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know. Maybe." He picked up his tea again and took a long drink, keeping his eyes on his father, who was leaning against the opposite counter and turning his glass of juice around in his hands.

"Well, then, I guess we need to set some... ground rules."

"_Ground rules?_" Kurt asked sceptically, putting his cup back down and wrapping both hands around it, holding it so tightly his fingers turned white.

"Yeah, like first of all, I need to meet this boy."

"You already did," Kurt deadpanned, "And you threatened him bodily harm."

"I mean properly. I want you to invite him over for dinner tonight. I'll even cook."

Kurt paled. His father cooking was never a good idea, and add in the fact that he wanted to invite Jacob, Kurt's maybe-sort-of-something over; that night was doing to be a _disaster_. His took another long gulp of his usually savoured tea, trying to calm his shaking.

"What time?" Kurt sighed, because he _knew_ that look on his father's face, the look that said _don't-fuck-with-me-'cause-I've-made-a-decision_ and meant it.

"Seven should be fine," Burt mumbled, grabbing a bowl from the rack of clean dishes and pulling open a cupboard in search of cereal.

Kurt nodded, putting his cup in the sink to be rinsed out later. (He'd do it himself when he came home; he'd stopped expecting his dad to do the dishes after he turned ten.) After grabbing his messenger bag and calling a short, "Bye, dad!" over his shoulder, he hurried out to his baby and got in, dreading the rest of the day.


	16. Rainbow

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: I'm going to try to stick as close to the show as possible, so __**THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR "JOURNEY" IN UPCOMING CHAPTERS**__. You have been warned._

Score: Rachel 2, Quinn 2.  
_There's still time to vote!_

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**16: Rainbow**

That day at school started out rather well for Kurt, considering no one tried to toss him in the dumpster or slushie him. He kept an eye out for Jacob, all day, and even started to look for Puck, after lunch— but neither seemed to be anywhere around.

He'd even asked Matt when he saw him in the hall if he'd seen either of them, but all Matt had said was that Puck was being all secretive and avoiding him, and he hadn't seen Jacob at all. A feeling of uncertainty settled in his stomach some time during third period when he hadn't seen hide or tail of Jacob anywhere.

Right after fourth period, Rachel caught up to him in the hallway, looking puzzled. "Mr. Schue had called a meeting of the former glee club in the choir room after school," she declared, furrowing her brow in a way that would surely give her premature wrinkles if she kept it up. "Have you seen Puck? I haven't told him yet."

"No. Have _you_ seen Jacob?"

"...Ben Israel, or...?"

"No, no. Puck's cousin," he clarified, and she shook her head, and then bounced off down the hall to look for the illusive guitarist. He shook his head and went to his locker, putting his things away and taking out his homework to do during study hall.

After the last bell had rung, the former glee club members ambled into the choir room with long faces and bad moods. They assembled themselves in the small, plastic chairs (Kurt was even going to miss _those_, when this was all over) and waited for their teacher to arrive. When Mr. Schue came in, he didn't say a word. Instead, he sat on a stool facing them, hanging his head glumly. Kurt braced himself for the heartbreaking and no doubt tear-worthy speech he was going to make, holding his breath and waiting for the dam to break.

"Mr. Schuster, why did you call us all here?" Rachel asked quietly, her voice sounding dangerously too meek for her personality.

"I uh, have some news," he said quietly, looking up at the sad faces and suddenly grinning, confusing everyone. "We have another year," he declared, earning him a chorus of shocked '_what_'s and '_how_'s and '_no way_'s. "Come on, _we've got another year_!" Everyone lunged from their seats, hugging each other, giving each other high-fives or jumping up and down.

Rachel's shrill shriek of "Oh my God!" was welcome to the cheering kids, because it was such a better sound compared to her quiet wallowing. "Are you serious?" she yelled, throwing her arms around stunned Mr. Schue when he nodded.

Kurt let go of Quinn, who he had somehow ending up hugging in the middle of all this madness, to look at Rachel, already demanding everyone's attention. "Okay, you guys, I think this is the perfect opportunity to start rehearsing for next year's Sectionals immediately—"

"Guys, you've all worked really hard this year, and deserve a break," Mr. Schuster cut her off, ignoring her protest of, "_But I've got ideas!_" and gently leading her back to her back to her seat."Take the summer off, have some fun. Oh, but before you go, I have something for you."

He headed over to the piano and took a ukulele from a case, smiling. "You all sang for me the other day. I'd like to return the favour. Puck, if you're ready?" Puck got up from his seat and grabbed his guitar, sitting down on a stool next to his teacher and starting to play.

Their heartfelt rendition of _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_ brought Kurt to the brink of tears as he held one of Mercedes's hands and one of Quinn's against his heart, humming along to the melody. There was a moment when he forgot everything— the stress of final exams, his worry over where Jacob was, his nerves about dinner— and just let the music take him to that happy place it always did, his eyes shutting naturally as he listened to the iconic lyrics. He shared a meaningful look with Finn, but the small smile he received didn't make his heart flutter like it once would have.

"_Birds fly over the rainbow, why then, oh why, can't I? Aye-aye-aye,_" Mr. Schuster finished with a smile. Everyone cheered, getting up and offering their favourite Spanish teacher handshakes and hugs and high-fives.

While everyone else was busy getting weepy and sentimental, Kurt went up to Puck, who was quietly putting away his guitar, proudly smiling to himself. "Hey, Puck?"

Puck fastened the clips on his guitar case and looked up, nodding to Kurt. "Yeah?"

"Where's Jacob?"

Puck raised an eyebrow, slinging the case over his shoulder. "He had some kind of family emergency and skipped to call a bunch of people to make arrangements." He shrugged, holding onto the guitar case's strap and eying Kurt. "He's probably still at my place. Look, I know we don't get along, but—"

"Just tell him I have something to tell him, and we have to talk tonight before seven. Get him to call me or something," Kurt mumbled, burrowing his hands in the pockets of his sweater. "It's really important."

"Alright. I'll tell him."

Kurt nodded, and gave his past bully a small, closed-lipped smile. "Thanks."

* * *

"Kurt said that there's something important he has to tell you," Puck said, frowning in Jacob's direction. He was staring at his cell phone, waiting for a call, obviously, and seemed completely absorbed in that. "What happened, anyway? Is your dad alright?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, he's fine. A friend was attacked by a—" He paused and looked up from the mobile device, scrutinizing his cousin warily. "—newborn vampire."

"Another one? Where the hell are these things _coming_ from?" Puck asked almost to himself, leaning his guitar case against the wall and sinking down onto his bed. "Your, uh, friend? I'm sorry, dude."

"Bella's my main concern, at this point. Mike was a friend of hers in high school." He shook his head, running a hand through his already too-long hair. He'd have to cut it before the next time he shifted. "What was it that Kurt wanted to tell me?"

Puck shrugged. "I dunno. He said it was important, and for you to call him asap."

Jacob grabbed his phone and dialled the number he had already drilled into his memory, putting the small device to his ear. "Kurt. Hey. What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"_I fine. Just... my dad has set these stupid new rules that um... he wants you to come over for dinner tonight to 'get to know you,' or something. You don't have to if you don't want to, I mean, I could probably weasel out of it, but it seemed kind of important to him, and—_"

"Kurt, calm down. I'll be there. What time?"

"_He said dinner will be ready at seven._"

"Should I dress up?"

There was a long sigh on the other end of the phone that came through as a rustle of static, and Jacob could almost see the pout on Kurt's (albeit adorable) lips. "_I don't think my dad would honestly notice if you did, but..._" He paused. "_...it might be best to make a better second impression than the first._"

Jacob put his hand over the phone and looked to Puck. "Do you have something relatively dressy I could borrow?"

"I guess. Why?"

Jacob smirked, giving Puck an eye roll that was cinema worthy. "Meeting the parents." He took his hand off the phone and put it back to his ear, smiling. "I'll be there at seven, and I'll be well groomed. Don't stress about it. Everything will be fine."

"_Thank you, Jacob._" There was a beat of silence, and then, "_What was your family emergency? Are you going to be okay to come over tonight, because we could reschedule if it's something really big. I'm sure my dad would understand._"

"It's fine, Kurt. I'm dealing with it. Don't worry."

Of course, Jacob had never been one to take his own advice. "Does this tie go with this shirt? Would Kurt even _care_?"

Puck sighed, rubbing his temples. Just wear the black tie. Black goes with everything, dude." He shook his head, "And don't you dare wear a yarmulke."

Jacob scoffed. "I wasn't planning on it." He tossed the blue striped tie aside and grabbed the black one, putting it around his neck and tying it in a Windsor knot around his neck. After pulled his collar down over the tie, he gave himself a once-over in the mirror. "How do I look?" he asked Puck, turning and putting his arms out.

"The sleeves are a little short, but other than that? Fantastic."

Jacob pulled at the sleeve cuffs self-consciously, turning back to the mirror. "Really?"

Puck groaned. "What else do you want me to say? You look great, you're gonna be fine. Now go, or you'll be late. And you're giving me a headache." He rubbed at his temples again to make a point, nodding towards the door. "Spare keys are in the glove compartment."

"Thanks."

He drove Puck's truck carefully, though the night was dead and he encountered very little traffic. It took him less time than he estimated to reach his destination, and at ten to seven, Jacob was standing outside the Hummel house. He took a deep breath and wiped his palms on the front of his pants, letting it out slowly as he pressed the doorbell.

Let the games begin.


	17. Heat

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: About the 'Jacob shouldn't be able to lie to Kurt because he's imprinted' thing, I figure, Kurt hasn't technically _asked_, so Jacob hasn't really lied to him at all. And not mentioning something isn't lying. I know very little about American football teams, so correct me if I'm wrong about any of those. Personally, I'm a Toronto Argonauts fan. :) Go Argos! __Also, when I said 'Mike' had been killed, I _did _mean Mike Newton from Twilight, not Mike Chang from Glee, in case there was any confusion on the matter. _

Score: Rachel 5, Quinn 3.  
_There's still time to vote, but it won't be open much longer..._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**17: Heat**

"Kurt, can you get that?" Burt called over his shoulder when the doorbell rang, looking up from the steaming pot in front of him. He'd really rather not answer the door in an apron and oven mitts, and the garlic bread was almost ready to come out of the oven.

"Got it!" Kurt practically skipped to the door, feeling like a puddle of nerves. He opened the door so fast he almost hit himself in the nose with it (which would have been a shame; he had such an adorable button nose) and smiled at Jacob, giving him an appreciative once-over.

Jacob's wine-coloured dress shirt obviously belonged to Puck, who was about two sizes smaller. The material was tight across his chest and arms, the outlines of muscle and sinew clearly visible beneath the fabric. Kurt admired them greedily, idly wondering how the muscular teenager could look even hotter dressed like this than when he had been shirtless.

"Hey," he said casually, smiling up at the Quileute teen. "Come in." He took a step back and Jacob walked into the foyer, carefully sliding off his shoes and arranging them neatly by the door as Kurt closed it.

"Dinner'll be ready in ten!" Burt Hummel's voice called from the kitchen. After a moment, the mechanic appeared in the doorway, wiping sweat from his brow with an oven mitt. "Kurt, why don't you show him around? But if you go in the basement keep the door open." He nodded to Jacob, who flushed a little at the implication— but nodded and smiled back anyway.

Burt returned to the kitchen, his heavy footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors.

"The, uh, basement is over here," Kurt mumbled, walking over to the door and opening it wide. Jacob nodded again and followed Kurt when he began to descend the stairs, immediately noting the change in colour scheme.

Now _this _was more what he had expected from Kurt. The walls were painted in Dior grey, the furniture all done in varying shades of grey or white, everything streamlined and clean. Kurt smiled and motioned around the room.

"So yeah. This is my room." He blushed a little, rubbing his toe into the concrete. "I'm going to apologise in advance for dinner. My dad is a little... overprotective."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "A _little_?"

"Okay, a lot. But he just doesn't want to see me get hurt, and he's trying to protect me, which is a lot better than some parents would do for their kids." Kurt frowned, biting his lip. "I mean, he tries, but sometimes he's a little..."

"Frustrating?" Jacob suggested, taking a step closer to Kurt and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes." Kurt sighed, shaking his head and absently reaching out a hand to straighten Jake's tie. "I can't thank you enough for coming over tonight, especially since your family is in the middle of a crisis." Jacob grabbed Kurt's hands, removing them from his tie and holding them securely between his own.

"Don't worry about it," Jacob reminded him, gently pulling Kurt to his chest. "You're worth it." He pressed a kiss to the top of Kurt's head, breathing in the intoxication smell of his hair. Kurt's ears were red with embarrassment, but he grinned into Jacob's chest at the sentiment.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Jacob pulled away a little to look down at Kurt, smiling at him and reaching out to run the pad of his thumb along his jaw. Kurt's eyes fluttered a little, but he kept them determinedly open as he looked up at Jacob and parted his lips.

If Kurt didn't know better, he'd have thought that his dad had bugged his bedroom— something Burt Hummel would never have been able to pull off, nor _want _to do, under any circumstances— because as Jacob leaned down to kiss him, their lips just millimetres apart, Burt called that dinner was ready, making them jump and pull away from each other.

Dinner wasn't as uncomfortable as Kurt thought it would be, but he still found himself feeling queasy even after smelling surprisingly well-made dinner his father had prepared. He hadn't overcooked the pasta, and the garlic bread was fine once you picked off the little burned pieces around the edges.

Kurt looked nervously between his father and Jacob, trying to distract himself with his food. He'd probably already doubled his usual daily carb intake by eating all this pasta, but he hadn't even noticed. Burt was asking Jacob a myriad of questions, the latest of which was, "Do you play any sports?"

Jacob responded as enthusiastically and honestly as he could to every single one, barely able to feed himself between talking. "I used to play a little football, and I was on the track team back home," he said, happy to have something in common with Mr. Hummel. Burt nodded, rolling a loop of spaghetti around his fork with practiced ease.

"Oh, yeah? Where're you from?"

"Washington State, actually," Jacob revealed, taking another piece of bread from the plate in the middle of the table and dipping it in the red sauce in the centre of his pasta. Burt nodded, chewing and swallowing his mouthful of pasta so fast he almost choked.

"Are you a Seahawks fan, then?"

"My dad's a fan. Don't really have a preference, myself," Jacob answered slowly, hoping it was a good enough answer. The last time he had debated football with a huge fan, he'd declared himself a fan of the Seahawks and had almost been beat up because they were that person's team's rivals, or some such crap.

"Good man, not holding yourself down. I usually root for the Chicago Bears, but the Dallas Cowboys have better cheerleaders." He shrugged, grabbing another piece of garlic bread for himself. "But the New York Giants play better, so it's a tossup." Kurt winced as his father talked with his mouth full of bread, but didn't say anything.

"I completely agree," Jacob said tactfully. "And may I add, you are an excellent cook, sir."

Burt smiled. "Oh, now you're just sucking up." They ate in silence for a minute, but it was a slightly more comfortable silence, perhaps, while Burt was trying to come up with something else to ask.

"What are you doing in Ohio, then, if you're from Washington? Visiting relatives?" Burt asked finally, causing Jacob blanch involuntarily and Kurt to drop his fork, grabbing a napkin to dab delicately at his mouth to cover up the action. Burt looked between the two, frowning. "What don't I know about, here?"

"It was kind of the opposite, actually," Jacob explained, coughing slightly and rubbing the back of his neck from discomfort. "It was more like... running _away_ from relatives."

"You ran away from home? Where are you living?" Burt's eyes bore into the tall young man, making Jacob shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"I'm staying with a cousin of mine who lives down here, Noah Puckerman."

Burt put down his fork from where it had been half way to his mouth, setting it on the side of his place. "Puckerman?" he growled dangerously, glaring at Kurt from under his eyebrows. "You mean that kid who nailed our lawn furniture to the roof?"

"Yeah dad, _that _Puckerman," Kurt confirmed, taking a sip from his glass of water carefully. Burt frowned more severely.

"Delinquency doesn't run in the family does it?" he asked Jake almost conversationally, while obviously scrutinizing him.

"Dad!" Kurt hissed, but his father paid him no heed.

"Not at all, sir. Noah is a little bit of an enigma, I suppose. My sisters are both in law school, and my dad is on the Quileute Council." Burt nodded his approval, eating another forkful of spaghetti from his almost-empty plate.

"That's nice. What about your mother? What does she do?" he asked as he munched on his garlic bread. Jacob sighed.

"She was an interior designer, before she passed away," he said, smiling a little at the memory of his mother running around the house with paint samples and fabric swatches. "She died when I was four. Car accident."

Burt stopped eating, looking up from his plate to meet Jacob's eyes. "I'm so sorry, kid. I didn't meant to—"

"It's alright. I was a long time ago."

Kurt coughed to try and break the ensuing Awkward Silence, but to no avail. It was finally shattered by the buzzing of Jacob's phone, which he had put on vibrate for the occasion. "May I be excused for a moment?" he asked, digging around in his pocket for the device. "I really need to take this."

Burt nodded, absorbing himself in his food once more as Jacob got up from the table and went into the living room, flipping open his phone as he walked. "Kurt, you should really warn me of these sensitive topics before I make a fool outta myself next time," he grumbled gruffly when he thought Jacob was out of earshot, raising an eyebrow at his son. "Did _you_ know?"

"About his mother? Yes. I didn't think I needed to _'warn you,'_ because I didn't think it would come up during _dinner conversation_." He scoffed and pushed away his still half-full plate full of unnecessary carbs, nudging it in his father's direction. "You want the rest of this?"

"Nah, it's okay, I'm full." Burt took Kurt's plate and placed it atop his own now empty one, glancing towards the living room thoughtfully. "Do you know what that's all about?"

Kurt turned around in his seat to look through the open doorway, where he could see Jake pacing back and forth across the living room, talking vehemently into his mobile phone. "Puck said he was in the middle of some kind of family emergency. I offered to postpone dinner, but he wouldn't hear anything of it."

Jacob returned a few minutes later, after Burt had already cleared away the empty plates and Kurt was helping him clear the table.

"Is everything alright?" Kurt asked quickly, looking up at Jacob, who looked slightly paler than usual, and maybe even a little sickly.

"Oh, yeah, everything's fine. I uh... did I tell you what was going on? I can't remember," Jacob replied in a murmur, scrubbing both hands over his face and letting out a long, saddened breath. Kurt shook his head.

"No, you didn't. And Puck wouldn't tell me, either."

"Well, I guess since it's over now, it's not like it would hurt..."

Burt turned an ear to listen from where he was silently washing the night's dishes, elbow-deep in soapy water.

"A uh... family friend of mine, someone I used to hang out with a while ago, was attacked by a—" He almost slipped and said _vampire_, but he caught himself in time and finished his sentence more broadly. "—wild animal early this morning." It wasn't really a lie, anyway; the newborn that had killed Mike had definitely been a wild animal.

"Is he alright?" Kurt asked, eyes wide with concern. Jacob shook his head, biting his lip.

"No, he isn't. The Sheriff found him and called for an ambulance, but he was declared dead on arrival," Jacob said with conviction, watching Kurt's hands fly to his mouth in shock.

"Jesus, Jake, I'm so sorry," he gushed, taking a step forward and wrapping his arms around Jacob's stomach. "What happened? Did they catch the animal?"

"Yeah, that's what the call was about. A bunch of my friends went on a hunting expedition the minute they found out, and they managed to hunt it down and... _dispose _of the problem." The words left a bitter taste in his mouth; that _thing_ had been a person, once, after all, even if it had killed Mike Newton.

Kurt let go and took a step back, nodding. "Well, that's good. At least it can't hurt anyone else."

"Yeah." Jacob looked over Kurt's shoulder at Burt, who was half-heartedly scrubbing at the garlic bread pan. "Thanks for dinner, Mr. H.," he called to Kurt's dad, "It was fantastic." Kurt walked him to the foyer, where he donned his shoes to leave.

After one last look to make sure Burt wasn't about to walk out of the kitchen, Jake leaned down and gave Kurt a short but meaningful good-bye kiss, cupping his cheek and bending down to press their foreheads together. "Think I made a good impression?" he whispered, and Kurt nodded, breathless.

"Absolutely."

* * *

When Jake returned to the Puckerman household and stashed Puck's keys in the glove box once more, he was surprised to find the Mohawked teen lying sprawled on the living room sofa, unconscious. He knew Mrs. Puckerman would be working late and Hannah was at her friend's house down the street having a Harry Potter movie marathon, but he didn't think Puck would get drunk in the two hours he'd been gone.

Upon further examination, however, his original theory proved incorrect. The can that was held loosely between his fingers as they dangled over the edge of the couch wasn't even beer; it was Coca Cola, and it was only half-empty. When he took the can away from the dozing Puck, he jerked away and dropped the can onto the floor, spilling its contents over the carpet in surprise.

Jacob immediately placed his hand on his cousin's forehead, pulling away when it felt scalding to the touch instead of that lukewarm feeling that most humans produced compared to his naturally overhead skin. Puck was _hot_, and not in the good way.


	18. Transformation

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: My friend Casey made another poster/promotional banner for this fanfic. You can find it here: http:/ minky-girl-for-life . deviantart . com/#/d2s6q4z (no spaces)_

Score: Rachel 6, Quinn 5.  
_There's still time to vote, but it won't be open much longer...  
(And please only vote once per person, or else it gets hard to keep track of who voted what.)_

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**18: Transformation**

"Puck?" Jacob began to shake Puck's shoulders violently, trying to get some kind of a response from the unconscious teenager. "Noah!"

He was just reaching for his phone to call 911 when it hit him, hard and fast like a punch to the stomach. Puck had _Quileute blood_, and he was running an _impossible fever_, and there had been an _increase in newborn vampires_... He grabbed Puck's face and pulled back an eyelid, staring into the shockingly yellow iris.

Puck was in the middle of _phasing_.

With a huge effort, he pulled Puck into his arms, hoisting him off the couch and into the air. After taking him to his bedroom and lying him down on his bed, Jacob grabbed his phone and dialled his father— surely his dad would know what to do, considering he had taken care of Jake when it had been _him_ in the middle of the transformation.

"Hey, Dad?"

"_Jacob. What's wrong?_" The worry in Billy's voice never ceased to amaze him; did the man spend all his time worrying about his nearly full-grown son?

"Nothing's _wrong_, per se, I just... need your help. What did you do when I underwent my transformation? Like, how did you take care of me?"

"_Why—?_"

"I'm pretty sure Noah Puckerman is phasing, and I have no idea what to do, dad! So _please_, just help me out here."

"_The only thing you can do for him is keep him hydrated, and try not to let him overheat. I used ice cubes for you, but a wet cloth would work if you don't have any on-hand._"

Jacob was in the kitchen in a flash, opening the icebox and growling when it was nearly empty. He deposited the little ice cubes there were into a cup and then filled the tray at the sink quickly, shoving it back into the freezer with vigour and then rushing back to Puck's aid, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he sat done on the bed next to Puck's limp body.

"I got ice. Now what?" he asked impatiently, staring down at his cousin and feeling helpless.

"_...If he's not awake, just force him to eat them. He'll come around once he's cooled off some._"

"Right," Jacob mumbled, grabbing the bottom of Puck's jaw and tugging gently. When it didn't open immediately, he panicked. "Dad, I can't open his mouth, what do I do? He's got like, lockjaw or something!" He pushed the rapidly melting ice cube against Puck's lips, trying to force it inside. "Dad, I don't know what to do!"

"_First of all, calm down. He isn't going to die if you don't force him to eat ice cubes; I'm sure your great grandfather didn't have someone at his beck and call while he was going through it, and _he_ survived the transformation. If you're really concerned, run a cold bath for him._"

"Cold bath. Okay. I can do that." After placing the ice cubes he had left on Puck's chest in a hope to keep him cool momentarily, he went to the bathroom and turned the cold water on as far as it would go, sticking in the plug and returning to get Puck.

He seemed even hotter the second time he was lifted, as if his temperature had greatly increased in the ten minutes since Jacob had come home. Jacob carried him to the bathroom and sat him on the floor next to the half-full tub, pulling Puck's sweat-soaked t-shirt over his head and off his feverous body. He didn't bother with the pyjama bottoms, picking up Puck half-dressed and dropping him into the freezing water.

Puck gasped, his eyes flying open at he sat up and started thrashing wildly. Jacob grabbed Puck's arms and held him down, pushing his torso beneath the water with almost all his strength. Puck was gasping and convulsing, making strange, animalistic noises at the back of his throat at he jerked about, flailing his arms and legs and soaking Jacob as much as himself.

"Calm down, God damn it, I'm trying to help you!" Jacob hollered at him, using one arm to hold down his chest and the other to grab his leg, forcing it back beneath the water.

Slowly, Puck's movements became less violent, changing to a twitchy shaking and occasional jerk of a limb into the side of the porcelain tub. His breathing became less erratic, and he opened his eyes slowly, the sound of water rushing in his ears.

"What...?" he gasped, grabbing onto Jacob's arm with surprising strength and gripping it tightly.

"You're undergoing the transformation," Jacob told him quietly, still using one hand to hold his chest under the water though it had easily risen to his elbow. "Will you stay still if I let go?"

"Yes," Puck said quietly, still squeezing Jacob's arm as if his life depended on it. Jacob removed the pressure he had been applying to Puck's torso, lifting his arm out of the tub and turning off the water because the bathtub was full.

"How d'you feel?" he asked, because Puck was still shaking, and had beads of sweat running down the side of his face to join the water in the tub, which was quickly becoming lukewarm from Puck's radiating heat.

"Like... shit," he articulated, gripping Jacob's arm even harder. "It feels like... my _brain_'s on fire." His face screwed up in pain, he squeezed Jacob's arm with more strength than it should have been possible for him to possess, bordering on painful for Jacob (which was a feat in itself).

"It'll get better," Jacob promised, wincing as he tried to pry Puck's fingers off his bicep. "Just relax, buddy. I know it hurts."

Puck let go suddenly, making a surprised face and practically leaping from the tub, soaking Jacob with a wave of warmed water. Spluttering and wiping water from his eyes, it took Jacob a moment to recognise the sounds Puck was making behind him. He retched forcefully, regurgitating the last remnants of his dinner (leftover pizza and Coke) into the toilet bowl.

Jacob wrinkled his nose, grabbing a towel from the rack on the wall and drying to clean up some of the water that was covering the tile floor. Puck continued to dry heave and retch even after it seemed there was nothing left for him to throw up, and Jacob suspected that the smell was to blame. Reaching over Puck's shoulder, he flushed the toilet to help alleviate the odour; after a moment, Puck leaned back, using a shaky hand to wipe drool from the side of his mouth.

"Water?" Puck mumbled almost incoherently, and Jacob stood to grab Puck's cup from the bathroom counter, pulling out the seldom-used toothbrush and filling it with cold water from the tap. He handed Puck the glass, and he gulped it down greedily, already dehydrated from the fever and the sweating.

"How long...?" he asked, and Jacob knew he was asking how long it would take to be over, because what _else_ would he be asking?

"I don't know," he replied honestly, using the towel he had grabbed to mop and Puck's forehead, "It took me almost a week, but I heard some of the pups only took a day or two because it was a crisis when they phased."

"A week?" Puck moaned, trying to stand up on shaky legs and barely managing to get on all-fours, manoeuvring himself back into the tub. He pulled the plug from the drain to release the water that was already too warm to be of any comfort, instead instinctively turning on the shower to pelt him with ice-cold drops. He sighed, tilting his heated face towards the spray and basking in the momentary coolness.

"It's different for everyone."

Puck ran a hand through his Mohawk, opening his strangely coloured eyes and looking at Jacob, feeling powerless. "This can't be happening," he groaned after a minute, putting his fingers to his temples to try and rub away his throbbing headache, "There hasn't been a vampire near Lima in over a hundred years."

Jacob shook his head. "I can't smell one, but maybe your stink is just clouding my senses," he joked, mopping up a puddle that had formed in a dip in the tile floor. "We don't even know how close it is. It could just be a Nomad passing through the forest outside of town, and most of them are pretty harmless."

"_Harmless?_" Puck scoffed, opening his eyes to look at Jacob again as the water continued to pelt his face and shoulders.

"There are some friendly vampires, you know. Not all of them are heartless bloodsuckers. I know a family of vegetarian vampires, if you can believe it. And there are other covens who do the same; refusing to feed on humans."

Puck closed his eyes again, going a shade paler as his stomach fought against him again. "You'll have to... debrief me on all this... stuff when this is over," he said, breathless and in pain.

"Sure, Puck."

It was then that both boys froze, a sound that stuck fear in their hearts. "_Boys, I'm home!_"

"Shit," Puck whispered, fighting back against an involuntary spasm in his muscles and made him kick the side of the tub. "What are we supposed to... tell Mom?"

Jacob was already pulling off his wet shirt and tie, dropping them in a messy heap in a puddle on the floor. "Don't move," he warned Puck, exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind him, hurrying down the hall to meet Mrs. Puckerman, who had Hannah in tow.

"Jake, why are you all wet?" the concerned parent instantly asked, noting his wet hair and pants with surprise. Jake's brain went into overdrive, thanking God that he had become good at lying on demand when he had to keep things from Bella and the others after his transformation.

"Puck's sick," he said, "Must've caught that awful flu that's been going around. He threw up on me when I came home from Kurt's, and now he's trying to clean himself up."

At least it was a plausible-sounding story, and it covered both why he was wet and why Puck was in the shower at this time in the evening. The sound of the shower shutting off and the sudden retching noises as Puck threw up the water he had drunk collaborated his story further, happening right after his explanation.

Mrs. Puckerman's gaze softened, and Hannah rolled her eyes, scurrying off to her bedroom to get ready for bed and avoid her sick brother. "Poor baby," Puck's mother said weakly, looking towards the bathroom door with distress. "Should I make him something? You think he wants some soup?"

Another painful retch sounded, and Jake shook his head. "Some ginger ale, maybe?" he said, figuring it might help with the constant puking. Mrs. Puckerman nodded, hurrying into the kitchen to get him the soda.

Jacob spent the entire night with Puck in the bathroom, alternating between feeding him ice cubes and rubbing his back as he threw them back up. They tried to be quiet, because Hannah had school in the morning and Puck's mother had to go to work early, but they weren't sure they were being very successful.

He woke up after a brief nap on the hard tile floor to Mrs. Puckerman calling the school to tell the secretary that they would not be attending today. He was made designated Puck-sitter by the protective woman as she rushed out the door that morning, kissing him on the cheek goodbye as she promised to rush straight home if he got any worse, or his fever went above 106°F. (Jacob laughed at this after she left, when he realised Puck's temperature was nearing 130°.)

The extreme overheating was replaced by chills about noon, when Puck needed to be wrapped in the comforter off his bed to stop from shivering so hard his teeth chattered. He was babbling nonsense by this point— something along the line of how if Jacob had never shown up, there wouldn't be any stupid vampires, which was simply ridiculous in itself.

At three o'clock, Puck was at a normal enough temperature to get some sleep, and Jacob was curled on the couch with a cup of warm soup he'd made in case Puck got hungry. The doorbell rang, making Jacob wince and put down his mug, hoping that the noise hadn't woken Puck. He peeked into his bedroom on the way to the door, but Puck was still out cold, curled in his blankets like a bear in hibernation.

Jacob answered the door with an angry expression that softened instantly once he caught sight of his visitor. "Kurt!" he exclaimed in surprise, then quickly covered his mouth, lowering his voice and stepping out onto the porch so as not to wake the sleeping teen. "What're you doing here?"

Kurt frowned, his mouth forming an adorable, kissable pout. "You and Puck didn't come to school today, and wouldn't answer my texts. What's going on?"

"Puck's sick," Jacob explained, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door. "Like, _really _sick. I had to stay home to take care of him."

Kurt nodded sympathetically. "Is he going to be okay? I make a mean chicken noodle soup, if you need help fixing him up."

He smiled up at Jacob, and Jacob swore he could hear the smaller boy's heartbeat. He almost considered taking the offer— being able to hang out with Kurt was always a good thing, considering he was his imprintee and he wanted nothing more than to spend time with him. But instead he shook his head, knowing that Kurt couldn't find out about the real reason Puck was sick; it was just too soon. He didn't want to scare Kurt off.

"You really don't want to catch what he's got, Kurt," Jacob said apologetically, putting a hand on Kurt's small shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. "I wouldn't want you getting sick because of me. It's really bad."

Kurt's smile fell a little, but he nodded, understanding. "Well, alright." He paused, putting a hand on the one Jake was resting on his shoulder and looking up at him with those big, innocent blue eyes. "Can we at least risk a good-bye kiss?"

Jacob chuckled, leaning down to press him lips against Kurt's eager ones. Kurt instantly put his arms around his neck, holding their chests close together for the duration of the romantic contact. Kurt sighed as they pulled apart, his eyes fluttering back open to look at Jacob, his heart racing.

"I'll call you tomorrow if I won't be at school," he whispered, pressing his lips to Kurt's forehead and revelling in the wonderful smell of his hair. "I promise. Now skedaddle, before Puck wakes up and starts demanding things in his whiny sick voice."

Kurt laughed, giving Jacob one last squeeze before letting go and taking a step back. "But I'll definitely hear from you tomorrow?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound desperate.

"Definitely," Jake agreed, smiling at Kurt. He watched as Kurt left, driving off in his sleek SUV. He noticed the next door neighbour staring at him and made a face at her, saying loudly, "What, haven't you ever seen two people in love before?" The old lady cringed and went back to her gardening.

"Some people are just so nosy," he mused quietly to himself as he went back into the house and returned to his cooling soup and a rerun of _Friends_. He picked up his phone from where it had been discarded next to the couch and made a point to text Kurt how sorry he was they couldn't be together today, and that he'd make it up to him tomorrow.


	19. Nightmare

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: This was only supposed to be 20 chapters, according to my original outline. I'm thinking it'll take at least twenty-five, if not closer to thirty to actually get through all the stuff I wanted to, which is going to be hard, since I have exams all this week. I'll try to keep up with my daily updates, but no promises._

_All my knowledge on what canines see (in relation to 'colour blindness,' which is completely untrue) was from online sources, and I trust that since they all say basically the same thing that they are correct. This link is particularly helpful if you want a clear picture: http:/ www . andrewlost . com/what_dogs_see . htm (no spaces)_

Final Score: Rachel 11, Quinn 7.  
_Rachel wins. Sorry Quick fans; I promise not to shove too much Puckelberry down your throats, I just needed to decide who Puck would— y'know. Go for. But it won't be "The Puck and Rachel Show" now, it's still all about Kurt/Jacob & a little Puck, mostly._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**19: Nightmare**

It was late that evening that Puck awoke, making an inhuman sound of pain at the back of his throat, a strangled whimper that woke Jake from his light doze below him on the air mattress. Jacob was on his feet almost immediately, putting a hand over Puck's mouth to try and keep his quiet, as Hannah was asleep in the next room.

Puck continued to whimper, shaking like a leaf in the wind and gripping Jacob's arm so hard it hurt again, his eyes crazed and delirious; we was so close now, he could feel his bones pulling against themselves as they tried to change into something his body had not been made for.

Jacob thanked God that it was dark outside as he dragged the moaning body through the house, unable to pick him up because of his constant writhing, and to the front door. After a moment to make sure that no one was outside nearby, he hauled Puck into the truck-bed, where the phasing teen curled in on himself, shaking and groaning.

Puck's transformation had gone on in record time, and Jacob found himself worrying over the quickness— the only other time he'd seen someone change so fast, there had been a vampire army just outside town, a gathering of dozens. But that _couldn't_ be happening again, he reminded himself as he started the truck, pulling out of the driveway quickly and leaving the street. He'd be able to sense them, or at the very least _smell_ them.

He chose what was quickly becoming his favourite place in town; the woods outside of the cemetery on Reservoir Road. He parked the truck just outside the edge of the woods, and then collected Puck from the truck-bed, helping him shakily to his feet.

"My head's on fire," Puck moaned, clutching his skull with both hands as though trying to put out the flames.

"I know, it'll all be over soon," Jacob said, trying to soothe him as he pulled the stumbling teenager into the thin cover of the trees. "We can't do this here. It's not safe." He pulled on Puck's arm, trying to make him move faster.

"S-safe?" Puck mumbled, blinking back tears of pain as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. "Why isn't it— argh!" He fell to his knees, grabbing his head once more and letting out an inhuman growl.

Jacob grabbed him around the torso, pulling him along the forest floor, his pace even more hurried. Puck was kicking his legs out wildly, his feet bouncing off logs and stones as he thrashed like a trapped animal, howling in despair.

And finally, _finally_, after what seemed like hours instead of minutes, they reached the clearing Jacob had been aiming for; a place he knew was so deep in the forest they would be safe. He dragged Puck into the middle of the small clearing, an area where a long-ago forest fire had burned away the trees and brush to leave this little patch of emptiness, barren except for the dead fallen leaves of the surrounding foliage.

Puck gasped again, arching his back up and clawing at the ground his both hands, digging his nails into the dirt and screaming as the fire overtook his brain and he cried out, convulsing on the forest floor.

Jacob remembered this part vividly; the agony of the first change, the heat, the _everything_ that just consumed his being. He remembers being vaguely aware of Sam holding him down for most of it, keeping him in place so he didn't run off and hurt himself halfway through. So he did the same for Puck, pinning him to the ground with his knees on Puck's chest and his hands on Puck's arms, trying to keep him still as he wailed in agony.

The feeling was unnatural, _indescribable_ as Puck heard the creaks and cracks of his bones elongating, felt the burning as his skin produced clumps of thick fur sprouting from his limbs and his chest and _everywhere_, the cry that left his lips at he flung his head back, his facial bones exploding like fireworks in front of his eyes as they broke away from the shape he had been born with and changed into something he had been born to _be_.

He gasped once more as everything shattered. And then suddenly the pain was gone, leaving an emptiness in its place that made him collapse with the peace he was finally granted, panting and lying on the ground.

He opened his eyes, to see that everything had changed; even the colours of things around him seemed different, the leaves that were once green were now an opaque near-white, and the brown tree trunks had turned a lighter tan. The sky was still its normal dark dusty blue, something he was surprised to find he was relieved to see. It was through everything had been put through an HD colour filter— things were clearer than before, but the colour pallet was pale and there was nothing at all in the red-yellow spectrum.

A fur-covered muzzle appeared within his line of site, and he met the creature's eyes— Jacob. _It's a little freaky at first— don't worry, you'll get used to it._

Puck yelped, unused to the feeling of someone else invading his head. He whimpered, shakily standing up on his newfound paws and putting his tail between his legs.

_Easy buddy, pace yourself,_ Jacob warned him, and Puck winced again, taking a step backward. He tripped over his own tail and fell on his behind, yowling.

_I don't like this. I don't like this. I don't like this. I don't like this,_ Puck thought in mantra, his eyes focussing and unfocusing, trying to get used to the strange vision he had been forced into. _Where are all the colours?_

_Canines are partially colour blind, Puck, _Jacob informed him haughtily, laughing. His laugh was like a strange combination of a howl and a bark, making Puck wince again as his ears adjusted to their new clarity as well.

_How do you deal with this? It's so weird,_ Puck grumbled internally, getting up once more only to stumble over his feet, staggering a little in trying to get his footing. _I feel like my head's going to explode._

_That'll clear once you get used to the sense-deprivation you've had in your human form. You're used to perceiving nothing, and now you perceive everything._

Puck pawed at the useless remnants of his clothes, now just hunks of torn cloth flung around the ground of the clearing in disarray, feeling numb. He looked up at Jacob, meeting his eyes. _You can go home now, if you want. I think I need some alone time to get used to all this._

Jacob nodded, shaking fur out of his eyes. His hair was really too long to be doing this, after all. _Alright. If that's what you want._

Puck laughed, and for the first time the inhuman sound didn't feel all that terrifying. _You're exhausted. I've kept you up for hours, and you had to wrestle with me a minute ago. Go home and get some sleep. I'll just hang around here and get used to the paws._

Jacob laughed again, easily phasing into his human self and pulling on his cut-offs, which had been quickly tied to his ankle before their wrestling match. "I'll have to teach you how to do this—" He motioned to the little tie around his ankle unnecessarily, "—later, because right now, you don't have any wearable clothes."

Puck made a noise of agreement, padding around the clearing slowly and getting used to his feet. "I'll come pick you up— and bring clothes— this afternoon, after school. I promised Kurt I'd go," he explained at Puck's not subtle eye roll. "I'll be back at three. Have fun 'getting used to the paws' until then, unless you want to walk home naked." He rolled his eyes when Puck's teeth were bared in what was unmistakably a smirk. "Don't even think about it, dude."

Still chuckling, Jacob left the clearing and Puck to figure things out. He knew from personal experience that phasing was a huge thing to go through, a painful, confusing thing, and he didn't want to intrude on Puck's thoughts while he figured out what he wanted to do.

He took a smell through the forest as he walked back to the truck, sniffing for any trace of vampire stench, but found none. The woods at least were clear; Jacob had no idea why puck had suddenly changed then, considering there hadn't been a vampire in Lima in a hundred years, and it still seemed that there weren't any. He considered the possibility that his being there, an Alpha with no Pack, had been what caused the transformation, but there was no way he could be certain.

He pulled into the Puckerman's driveway just before dawn, when the sky was lightening but the sun had no yet risen. He crept into the house was quietly as he could and chose to flop himself onto Puck's bed, instead of the flat air mattress on the floor, since Puck wouldn't be home to use it anyway. He was exhausted, and it felt nice to be in a real bed again, after so long of sleeping on the leaking substitute below him.

* * *

Jacob's dreams of late had been vague and indistinguishable, the flutter of emotions covered in white smoke he wouldn't be able to recall in the mornings. The last clear dream he had had was on his first night in Lima, spent asleep on the bare mattress on the floor of the choir room. He dreamed again the night that Puck phased, turning restlessly in his sleep as he dreamt.

This dream was very similar to the one he remembered having that night in the choir room. He was in his wolf form, running through the woods, feeling like he was free and flying, his paws barely touching the forest floor. There was an air of panic in the way he was running. Not like he was running away from something, but like he was running towards it.

The stinging smell that was distinctly vampire burned his nostrils, and he pushed himself to run faster. He had to, or else something bad was going to happen. Something horrible. His breathing became erratic, and he was running towards the smell, following it. He had to stop the vampire from getting something he loved.

The biggest change from one dream to the next was the sudden presence of another wolf, the scent of which was close to him, following him. The wolf caught up to him, and they ran alongside each other, panting and breathing through their mouths.

The wolf was long and lean and thin, but with powerful, muscular legs that pumped in time with Jacob's own. His fur was sleek silver, cut short to the point where it was almost nonexistent, except for a long stripe of black fur from the very tip of his snout to the end of his tail, stretching down his back like a skunk.

The pair raced through the thin cover of trees, willing their muscles to carry them faster to the impending danger. They had to stop the vampire, or else everything would be over, destroyed. Something terrible was about to happen... he just didn't know _what_.

Jacob woke up to the sound of his phone ringing, his eyes flying open as the shrill sound reached his ears. He sat up, rubbing a hand across his face. A thin sheen of sweat covered his body, and his heart was racing, a remnant of the frightening dream. Just a dream, he thought to himself, taking a deep breath to trying and regulate his heart rate. He'd had nightmares before; it wasn't all that much of an enigma.

Groaning, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the vibrating device and staring at it blearily. The clock said that it was eight o'clock (where had the time gone?) and that Kurt was calling him. After yawning loudly to get it out of his system, Jacob flipped open the phone pressing it to his ear and suppressing a grin.

"Good mornin', darling."


	20. Schooled

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: I hope I didn't scare any of my readers off when I said there would be minor Puck/Rachel in future chapters! D: I think I may have, though; why else would I only get four reviews for my last chapter? Have you all deserted me? That makes me slightly sad, and kind of less motivated to write now._

_Someone requested that they should make-out more, and less "Disney-channel cute," so yeah. Trying to be less innocent... am I failing?_

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**20: Schooled**

"Good mornin', darling," Jacob drawled sleepily into the phone, stretching an arm behind his back and popping the joint, sighing contently as he did so.

"_Darling?_" Kurt questioned instantly, and Jacob swore he could hear the raised eyebrow in his voice, even though that technically made no sense whatsoever. "_We're using pet names already, are we? What am I supposed to call you now?_" There was an edge of laughter to his voice, his sarcastic tone wonderfully refreshing after how the stressful the last few days had been.

"I don't care, as long as it's not cupcake. That's just stupid sounding and makes me want to barf when I hear people saying it," Jacob confided in Kurt seriously, getting out of Puck's bed long enough to grab a t-shirt from his drawer and pull it over his head, once again throwing himself down on the comfortable surface.

"_Aw, muffin,_" Kurt replied even more sarcastically.

"I'm not a baked good of any kind, thank you very much." He laughed, shaking his head. "Not that I don't like waking up to the sound of your voice, but why are you calling so damn early, anyway?"

"_Early? It's past eight! I've been up for hours, debating whether or not it would be nosy to call you to ask if you'd be at school today,_" Kurt chuckled, and there was a loud buzzing in the background for a moment before the phone was muffled, and Jacob could just make out his voice calling, "_Do you _mind_? I'm on the phone, here!_"

"What was that?" Jacob inquired once the obvious muffle (Kurt's sleeve, perhaps?) was removed.

"_My dad thought it would be a good idea to turn on the stupid air-jack while I was on the phone. Never mind, I'm out of the garage now anyway._" He sighed, and made that noise that meant he was shaking his head, a slight clicking of his tongue in annoyance. "_So,_" he said, his tone completely changing from annoyed to happy with just one word, "_Are you coming to school, or will I have to come over to help you get Puck back on his feet?_"

Jacob already had his shoes on and was heading out the door, "He said he'll be fine on his own, so I'm going. Where are you?"

"_On my way to school? I thought I'd walk today, since it's so lovely out._"

Jacob looked up at the sky quizzically as he made a beeline for Puck's truck; it was overcast and cloudy, the sky an angry purple behind the storm clouds, rain a very likely impending doom. "Did your dad take away your car?"

Kurt sighed. "..._Maybe_."

Jacob let loose a bark of laughter as he climbed into the truck's cabin, shaking his head to get his hair out of his eyes. "Where are you? I'll pick you up."

"_I haven't really gone anywhere yet. I'm just in front of the garage_." He fed Jacob the address, and then he insisted they hang up until Puck's box of bolts got there, because he didn't want to risk a car accident because he was too distracted by his phone.

When Jacob pulled up outside of _Hummel's Garage_, Kurt was waiting outside with his phone in his hand, idly texting Mercedes. Kurt looked up from the mobile device and flipped it closed, giving Jacob a closed-mouth smile through the windshield as he walked around the vehicle and opened the passenger door.

"Hey," he said almost shyly, climbing into the cabin and doing up the slightly-frayed seatbelt, placing his messenger bag neatly on his lap. "That's for picking me up."

"Why'd you lose your car?" Jacob couldn't help but ask as he pulled away from the curb. A bad feeling curled in the pit of his stomach, and he made a worried face. "It wasn't something _I _did, right? I thought dinner went _well_, but—"

Kurt laughed, easing the tension. "God no. I think my dad loves you. All he can talk about is how much he wants you to come over and watch the football game with us next week, even though he's still a little weirded out by that fact that you're my boyf—" Kurt froze, the word dangling half-unsaid from his mouth. He hadn't meant to say it, to assume anything, but he had, and now he was nervous as to Jacob's reaction.

Jacob frowned. "You can say 'boyfriend,' Kurt. I told you— not half-assed and in the closet. We're dating, aren't we?"

Kurt sighed with relief, chuckling nervously. "Yeah. Okay." He grinned up at Jacob for a moment before turning to look at his bag, fiddling with the leather strap fondly. "Thanks."

They pulled into the school's parking lot with plenty of time to spare, and Jacob was angry to note that there was a smaller gathering of letterman jackets hanging around the dumpsters. "Don't they learn?" he grumbled, parking and yanking the keys out of the emission, bordering on violent as he pulled open the door and slammed it behind him. Kurt followed him meekly, wide-eyed at scared looking.

"Sup, Puckerman?" Azimio said as he approached, a dangerous hunch to his gait. Unsurprisingly, Karofsky was still absent from the endeavour. "You gonna try to play 'protect the faggot' again? 'Cuz I brought _reinforcements_." He seemed proud of himself for using such a long word, smirking happily and laughing with his buddies.

"You mean the same guys who stood by you when I beat you and your friend up last time? I thought you'd be smarter than that," Jacob said, tensing his shoulders like a lion ready to pounce. "I just came over to tell you the new rules."

Azimio laughed haughtily, encouraging his friends to join him. Who did this guy think he was?

"Rule number one," he started, leaping forward and grabbing Azimio by the collar of his jacket, lifting him a good six inches off the ground easily. The laughter died out, the group going deadly silent. "You leave Kurt Hummel alone from now on."

"And if I don't?" he asked, trying to look unfazed by the fact that he tips of his toes were barely grazing the concrete.

Jacob pulled back one lip in a snarl, taking three long strides to push the jock against the dumpster, still dangling precariously from his jacket collar. There was a clang when he made contact, and Azimio's friends winced in sympathy, but unsurprisingly did nothing to stop it. "Then I throw _you _in the dumpster every morning until you do."

And with that, he lifted the bulky black teen with remarkable ease, flipping him into the dumpster with very little resistance. Jacob turned to look at Azimio's group of completely underwhelming friends, who stood stalk still, staring at the dumpster woefully.

"That goes for the rest of you," Jake warned them quietly, his voice low and dangerous. He could have done much worse things to the jock than throw him in the smelly dumpster, and the way his eyes were shining warned them of that fact. They nodded diligently, one hurrying over to help Azimio out of the metal confine as he tried to haul his large body over the edge.

Jacob turned around, his mood instantly brightening when he saw Kurt again, who stood stunned about ten feet away. After an arm was slung around the smaller boy's shoulders, he whispered, "You didn't have to do that," a statement that Jacob wholeheartedly disagreed with.

"Yes, I did. They needed to be knocked down a few pegs. No one's going to treat you like that when I'm around; not _ever_."

Kurt teared up a little, feeling overwhelming loved in a way he hadn't even considered before. Finn holding his jacket while Puck threw him in the dumpster or putting on a ridiculous red shower-curtain Lady Gaga costume to defend him were _nothing_ compared to Jacob's little speech to him.

Jacob reached down and took Kurt's hand, smiling down at him giving it a squeeze. They walked into the school, to Kurt's locker and then his first period English class like that, ignoring the stares and whispers they received, and the rumours they were probably igniting.

Most of the girls they passed sighed with "_Aw,_"s and whispered cutesy things about them, and the majority the boys looked on with disgust or annoyance as they strutted down the halls, hand-in-hand like they owned them. He even gave Kurt a little good-bye kiss as they parted ways at the door to Kurt's class, promising to be there to walk him to second period.

The reaction to their 'coming out' (they hadn't been 'in,' for Christ's Sake) was rather surprisingly positive; some people commented on their braveness, or giggled happily as they passed. All of the guys who once would have been Slushying the new couple held both their cups and their tongues, having heard about Karofsky and Azimio from someone or other. And Jacob was just generally intimidating.

At lunch, they sat together and ate the lunch Kurt had so thoughtfully packed for them to share; a salad for himself and a PB&J for Jacob, whose eyes lit up when he saw Kurt had even cut the crusts off for him (not that he was that picky, but it was cute nonetheless).

They even managed to avoid Jacob Ben Israel for the entire day, because they had been warned by multiple people that he was trying to hunt them down for an interview. (The last thing they wanted was to be featured on his Blog with direct-from-the-source quotes.)

Parting ways at two fifty was almost painful, even as Jacob drove Kurt home in Puck's beat up old Ford. He had seemed so thrilled by every little thing— a smile from a teacher at them, a hug from one of his Cheerio friends, the fact that Jacob didn't mind holding hands almost all day long— and now he looked sad that the amazing school day had come to an end. Never mind that he hadn't been Slushied or dumpster tossed, but he had an amazing boyfriend to stick up for him.

"You want to come in?" Kurt asked, doe-eyed and innocent looking and he looked at Jacob from across the truck's cabin hopefully. Jacob bit his lip, shaking his head.

"I can't. Promised Puck I'd pick him up from—" _The woods by the cemetery._ "—his appointment."

Kurt's face fell a little, but he nodded, always the understanding one. "That's alright. I'll just, um..." He grabbed bag from between his knees, pulling it into his lap.

His floundering almost made Jacob laugh, but instead, he leaned across the seat and gently pulled Kurt's face to his, connecting their lips in a searing kiss. It was the most forward he'd ever been with Kurt, one hand placed softly on the side of the pale boy's neck to guide him, the other leaving the steering wheel to find a place on his jean-clad knee.

He deepened the kiss, straining again his seatbelt as he tried to apologise for ditching Kurt with his lips and his tongue, exploring the roof of Kurt's warm, pliable mouth. The smaller boy sighed against his face, a small hand coming up to tentatively cup his cheek. When they resurfaced, so to speak, Kurt's face was flushed pink and his breathing was shallow, uneven.

"You sure you don't want to come in?" he asked breathlessly, his eyes somehow suddenly much less innocent and much more mischievous. Jacob groaned, kissing Kurt chastely for another moment before pulling away, shaking his head.

"I really do need to go pick up Puck. Rain check?"

Kurt sighed unhappily, giving him a little pout. "Okay." He fumbled a little with his seatbelt, his fingers seemingly unwilling to do what he asked them to. Jacob laughed quietly, reached over and undoing the clasp, helping Kurt with the task.

"I'll see you later, darling."

Kurt rolled his eyes as he got out of the car, sneaking in a wink and a, "You'd better, _cupcake_," before sticking out his tongue and slamming the ancient door shut, running up the front steps to his house laughing all the way.


	21. Cold

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: So glad you all liked the last chapter, but that's kind of the end of the fluffy-phase. Sadface. There's s__ome not-so-happy-but-exciting things are going to happen from now on... mwa ha ha. I feel so evil right now, it's not even funny. _

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**21: Cold**

"Took you long enough," Puck complained as he pulled on the offered pair of jeans held out to him. "And by the way, I totally smelled vampire out there. It's like this awful burning acidic smell, and the most horrible—"

"You smelled a vampire?" Jacob asked, cutting Puck off midsentence. "Where?"

Puck shrugged, grabbing a running shoe from the truck bed and jamming it onto his now too-large feet. "On the outskirts of the forest, but that's not the point." He stood straight staring down at his bare ankles despondently. "Have I gotten taller?"

"A little. It's a side effect of the change," Jacob said offhandedly, waving his hand around to change the subject. "I don't smell a vampire."

"Well, like I said, it was way on the outskirts. I had a pretty long time to go exploring while you _ditched me_ to hang out with your _boyfriend_," Puck said, slamming the driverside door open and ducking to get inside.

Jacob laughed, getting into the passenger's seat and raising his hands in defence. "You told me to get lost, dude, not the other way around. Besides, would you _really _want to hang out with me and Kurt?"

Puck made a face, pulling out onto the road and rolling his eyes. "No. I might be okay with you dating the guy, but I don't want to have to hang out with him. It would pull down my rep so much more than just being in glee club has done." He paused, sighing. "I'm going to need new shoes. My feet hurt."

The afternoon passed uneventfully, in which a startled Mrs. Puckerman demanded her son go buy himself some new jeans that actually fit him, baffled by his recent growth-spurt. When shopping was finished (a short stop at Wal-Mart and Giant Tiger was all it took to basically restock Puck's wardrobe in the proper sizes), the boys ate left-over pizza and played videogames until their eyelids drooped.

Jacob missed the great night's sleep he had gotten on Puck's bed when he was once again forced to take the air mattress, but he didn't mind it so much after Puck found the air pump and re-inflated it to its former glory. He fell asleep with a smirk on his lips, dreams of Kurt's mischievous smile keeping him company on the bitter cold Ohio night.

* * *

Kurt shivered, opening his eyes and blinking up at the gray ceiling in confusion. It was obviously still dark out— the small basement window showed a blackened night sky, the soft crescent of a moon visible through a break in the curtains. Why had he woken up in the middle of the night? He strained his ears listening for the phone, or any other kind of sound that could have woken him.

Something shockingly cold brushed his shoulder, and he jumped as a trail of goose bumps appeared on his pale skin. He turned his head and opened his mouth to scream, but an ice-cold hand over his mouth stopped any noise from escaping.

"Shh, little one. Don't want to go waking up your father, would you?"

That's exactly what he had been trying to do, the instant he saw a strange person stretched out on the mattress beside him, but he didn't mention it to her as she brushed her icy fingers across his forehead, tucking his sleep-mussed hair to the side.

"Hush. Do as I say and I won't kill your daddy," she whispered, her voice soft and sweet, but strangely terrifying.

Kurt's eyes were wide with fear as she removed her hand from his mouth, but he still tried to call out as soon as his muffle was removed. She thrust her hand back over his moth, somehow now holding one of his scarves in her other hand and waving it tauntingly above him. He turned away as she moved the scarf towards his face, but she grabbed his chin and turned it back so that he was looking up at her, a malicious glint in her eyes as she used it to gag him, trying it around his head.

After he had been properly shut up, she trailed her fingers down his neck, stopping to press at the fluttering pulse point in his throat. He gasped through the gag, and she pressed down on his throat, constricting his air pipe.

"Agreed?"

He nodded, tears forming in his eyes and blurring the outline of her beautiful face.

And she _was_ beautiful, in a strikingly intimidating way; her skin was pale and smooth to the point of perfection, her features all proportionate and sharp, angular. Her hair was short, so that it swished around her chin in silver-blonde waves as she sat up, pulling her with him. But what was most shocking were her eyes, deep, dark blood-red with a burning behind them that was both powerful and ghastly.

She moved with a feline grace that Kurt couldn't appreciate because his torso was shaking with silent sobs and choking fear that gripped his chest like her icy fingers gripped his arm, pulling him from his bed to stand barefoot on the concrete floor.

Her movements were silent as she pulled him through the basement, and the thing that bugged Kurt the most about her was that he couldn't hear her breathing. He prided himself on having highly trained auditory senses— his own breathing was loud and laboured, breaking the silence every time he took a shuddering breath. But she made no sounds, even as her foot hit that creaky step halfway up the staircase; her steps were so light she barely touched the ground.

He might've been able to overlook the obvious weirdness of the situation—the fact that there was a woman in his bed, threatening to murder his father, guiding him through the silent house in the middle of the night— if she had been breathing. If she had been a part of some kind of robbery scheme, he might have bought it. Send the woman to shush the kid; it made sense. What didn't make sense was the cold grip of her fingers on his arm as she tugged him into the foyer, too cold.

He stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes caught a gleam in the living room. Over the back of the sofa, clearly visibly from his position in the foyer, the back of a middle-aged balding head could be seen, a trickle of red running down the side to pool around the owner's ear. Kurt made a distressed noise at the back of his throat, trying to pull away from the... the _thing_'s icy grip to lunge at his unconscious father.

"Ah, ah, ah," she said quietly, yanking him close to her side. "He's alive. For now." She chuckled, the sound low and menacing. Kurt whimpered, his eyes watering once more. Her weapon of choice lay broken on the floor behind the couch, a family photo in a heavy wooden frame, the glass now cracked down the middle, the frame broken on a diagonal.

She pulled Kurt close to her side, leaning forward to whisper menacingly in his ear. "Don't make me change that."

Kurt was much more compliant to her directions after he'd seen the actual threat. He hadn't been given any explicit proof that his father was still alive (she could have staged his dead body to look like he had been ambushed and knocked out while dozing on the couch, after all), but Kurt refused to believe that his father, the only family he had left in the world, was dead on their living room sofa.

The front door was opened, and Kurt was pulled onto the porch, the night's frigid air hitting his skin and causing him to shake more violently. Head spinning, he barely noticed when she pushed him into the backseat of his Navigator, hopping into the front seat and starting the car, the powerful engine's hum breaking the silence.

The last thing Kurt thought before he passed out— from shock, from fear, who knows— was that he hoped that this was all just a very bad dream, and that his knight in shining armour would come to save him. _Jacob, where are you? I'm scared._


	22. Fear

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: So I promised I'd lay off the Puck stuff, but since I'm sure a bunch of you were worried about Burt, I decided this was the best way to go. Sorry about the lateness— summer vacation just started, and strangely enough, this has so far meant me having _less_ time to write then when I was in school. Huh. Anyway, enjoy!_

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**22: Fear**

Jacob woke with a start, the distant remnants of a forgettable dream dripping away, leaving him wondering what the hell had woken him. Something akin to terror had a vice grip on his racing heart, his sweaty palms tightly gripping his bed sheets. That alarming feeling in the pit of his stomach had started again, the feeling he associated with his Pack being in danger. _Mortal_ danger.

He did a mental run-through of the last conversation he'd had with Sam— the newborn vampires had stopped appearing just as suddenly as they had started, Seth had healed up nicely, Renesmee was growing incredibly fast, and all was once again well in both Forks and La Push. It seemed as though nothing could go wrong there, since everything had gone back to normal.

That left something being wrong _here_.

Jacob sat up and looked over at Puck, who lay peacefully sleeping on his bed. Well, at least he knew one member of his Pack was safe, as he lay snoring and drooling slightly on the pillow clung to his chest. A sharp poke to the shoulder was enough to wake him; Puck stirred from his own dreams, opening his eyes and glaring blearily at his Alpha.

"Whatimesit?" he groaned, one of his hands swiping at his sleep-filled eyes.

"Puck, something's _wrong._"

Puck blinked, the fear in Jacob's voice sobering him up. He sat up and tossed his pillow aside, looking down at his relative from his higher vantage point warily. "Is the Pack alright? Dude, you're as pale as a ghost."

Jacob stood on shaky legs, grabbing a pair of Puck's cut-off pants from the floor and quickly pulling them on. "He's in trouble."

"Who?"

Puck was already pulling on a pair of jeans himself, trying to pull his leg through the pantleg while hopping after Jake, who was storming down the hall with purpose in his step. Jacob whirled around, his eyes alight with fire as he growled, "_Kurt_," in a voice that was so dark with anger, Puck took a moment to shiver before doing up his pants and chasing after Jacob, who was out the door and ducking into the drivers' seat of Puck's truck.

He hopped into the passengers' seat as Jacob started the engine, and the old Ford roared to life with its usual noisiness, disrupting the usual calm of the neighbourhood. Puck held on for dear life as Jake peeled out of the driveway and down the silent road, breaking about a dozen traffic laws in his hurry to get to the Hummel's.

Puck didn't even have to ask how he knew something was wrong with Kurt— being a shape shifter was freaky enough as it was, and he honestly didn't _want _to know if Jake had some kind of physic ability under his belt as well. He just figured it was an imprinter thing.

The car stopped and the boys leapt out of it in unison, Jake sprinting up the walkway and Puck following a little more cautiously. There was no doubt in Puck's mind that the acrid, burning smell assaulting his nostrils was the scent of vampire; rational fear of the situation caused his movements to be shaky, even as adrenaline filled blood pounded in his ears.

It was the door being open that did him in. All Jake had to do was touch it and it swung inward, revealing the slightly tousled foyer. Jacob stepped over the crumpled front rug and charged through a door at the end of the hall, and Puck could hear his heavy footfalls on the stairs as he raced into the basement. Timidly, Puck followed, his heart racing and his hands shaking.

He only glanced into the living room for a second, but the sight that awaited him made him catch his breath. He ran into the room, dodging around the couch to get to Mr. Hummel, whose head was lolled to one side at a painful-looking angle.

"Mr. Hummel?" Puck called his name and shook his shoulders, one hand quickly going to the side of the older man's neck to check for a pulse. It was weak and thready, but it was there, fluttering under Puck's fingers. He sighed in relief— Mr. Hummel had fixed a flat tire for him once and was a great guy; it would have been horrible for him to have been senselessly killed this way.

He heard a cry of anguish from the basement, presumably from Jacob finding an empty bed. Jacob appeared, flustered and upset in the doorway. "He's gone, it's taken him," he said breathlessly, "We need to find him before it—"

Jacob couldn't bring himself to say the words. The prospect was just too daunting, too horrible to even think about. He turned and raced out the door, leaving Puck alone with the unconscious mechanic once more.

Without considerable difficulty, Puck picked up Mr. Hummel and carried him to the truck, lying him down as gently as he could, and careful to avoid hitting his head. Jacob was nowhere to be seen as he started the old engine again, racing to get Mr. Hummel to the nearest emergency room. For all Puck knew, Kurt's dad might be bleeding in his head, and he probably required immediate medical attention.

The hospital was dead silent as he parked in the ambulance lane, completely ignoring the no parking sign that told him not to. He sent a silent prayer up for Jacob, hoping to hell that Kurt was okay— not because he particularly like the flamboyant countertenor, but because Jacob was like his brother, and if anything happened to Kurt, Jake would never forgive himself.

After Mr. Hummel was rushed away on a gurney and he'd given all them the meagre information he knew, he went back out to his truck and got in, winding down the windows and rejoining the silent roads. He followed his nose— a new sense he hadn't quite gotten used to, but what the hell— and trailed after the warm smell of _wolf _that mingled with the acidic smell of _vampire_.

The old truck protested at the speeds Puck was pushing it to, wheezing and making little noises that probably weren't good. As the rows of houses became further and further apart, the urban landscape slowly became rural, Puck realised that the smells were fading. He wasn't gaining on them with his vehicle— he was losing them, going too slowly.

"Bloody hell," Puck cursed, pulling over the mechanical impediment on the side of the empty road.

He hopped out of his truck and stripped himself of his pants, tying them tightly to his calf like Jacob had taught him earlier. It took only a moment to shift this time, his wolf form coming to him more easily than his human one had when he had first changed back into it.

Puck turned his nose to the wind to pick of Jacob's scent, catching it immediately and springing into action. His paws pounded the earth as he raced to catch up, that now-familiar feeling of having someone else's presence inside his mind returning as Jacob's thoughts mingled with his own.

* * *

Kurt woke from his restless slumber when the Navigator hit a bump and he catapulted face-first into the back of the drivers' seat. His hands flew up to grasp his nose (it wasn't broken, thankfully) and he let out a strangled sound of pain— his gag still firmly in place, he couldn't do more than that. Instinctively, his hands sought out the knot at the back of the scarf, but she had knotted it several times, and his fumbling fingers couldn't do more than tug at it uselessly.

The driver, whose pale skin reflected the moonlight in a way Kurt would have thought of as magnificent had she not taken him captive, smiled devilishly. "Don't even bother trying." When he continued to do just that, she sighed, shaking her head. "I knew I should have tied your hands when I had the chance."

Kurt flinched as she quickly turned another corner, and he hit his shoulder off the door. Wincing, he pulled himself upright and into a seat and tugged the seatbelt around himself, though his head was spinning and he had trouble doing up the clasp. His father would kill him if he knew he had been in a car going this fast (she was pushing his car to the limits, of which it had very high) without his seatbelt on— even if he _was_ being kidnapped.

"See, that's a good boy," his captor cooed, smirking at him in the rear-view mirror. He stared defiantly back, not even bothering to wipe away the trickle of blood from his nose as it ran over his upper lip. The only thing he could think to do was keep his mouth shut— not much trouble there, considering the gag— and not show any weakness. He was a _man_, Goddamnit, and as soon as she stopped the car he was going to get out of this situation. Though he was small, Kurt was not at all weak— if she fought him, he could totally take her; his self-defence classes hadn't been in vain, after all.

Trees blurred passed the car window so fast it made Kurt feel dizzy. He couldn't tell if they'd been driving for minutes, or hours, or days, but he did know that he didn't immediately recognise anything they were passing, and that it scared him. Even if he did manage to escape and find a payphone somewhere (which was unlikely, considering he had yet to see a shop or even a _sign_ since he had woken) he had no idea where he was, or if his father was in any condition to come find him.

The thought of his father made his blood run cold. He was hurt, alone, and unconscious on their living room couch; Kurt had never been a religious person, but he still raised his eyes to the car roof and then closed them, praying for his father's wellbeing. _He's all the family I've got left,_ he explained to anyone who might be up there to listen, _Please don't let him die, too._

The SUV jerked to a stop, and Kurt was propelled forward involuntarily, straining against his seatbelt so as not to catapult through the windshield. He rubbed his chest where there was undoubtedly going to be a nasty seatbelt-shaped bruise as the driver got out of the car and then threw open the back door.

"Get out," she demanded icily.

Kurt gingerly undid the clasp of his seatbelt, slowly getting out of the car and stepping out onto a compacted dirt road. He didn't recognise his surroundings, but the smell of water and the rise in humidity definitely threw him for a loop. She couldn't have taken him as far as Lake Erie, could she?

His eyes darted around him, looking for a possible escape route. She had parked the Navigator strategically behind a grouping of warehouses, and they were on the edge of a clearing around them that lead to a narrow road, disappearing into the darkness.

He took his chances with the road, darting around her and making a run for it. Lungs burning from lack of oxygen, limbs tired and bruised, he really didn't make it all that far before he found his nose in the dirt, a heavy weight on his back. Vaguely, he wondered at the back of his mind how on earth she had gotten to him so fast, but he was more concerned with the sound of tearing fabric.

"_What_ have I told you about trying to escape?" she tutted, tearing off the cuff of his black silk pyjama top (he took a moment to mourn the loss of the expensive item). He tried to squirm away from her as she used to fabric from his torn sleeve to bind his hands together behind his back, but was unsuccessful.

Fear settled into the pit of his stomach as she pulled him to his feet by his sore shoulder, dragging him towards the warehouses with his arm in the vice grip of her cold fingers. She paused at the doorway, giving him a thoughtful look up and down before shaking her head.

"It'll be a shame when I have to kill you," she whispered dangerously, trailing her fingers down his cheek. "The world should mourn the loss of such a pretty face."

He turned away, trying to push down the sickening feeling of bile climbing his throat. A single tear made its way down his porcelain cheek and settled in the corner of his nose as he hung his head with shame over being so weak.

She effortlessly opened the heavy door and pulled him into the dark warehouse, which smelled vaguely of fabric and softener. Everything went black as she pulled him along behind her, unable to do anything but try not to cry.

She's beaten him.


	23. The Chase

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: __I think I might be going a little overboard with the smells— I always tend to, because that's what really sticks with me when I go through something traumatic; the smell. I figured it's the thing you pick up on most when you're afraid. When my uncle was shot in the line of duty when I was seven, the only thing I really remember was the smell of stale coffee and that sterilised-hospital-smell from the waiting room. ...Anyway, I hope the smell thing doesn't bug anyone, but I'm not going to try to cut back on it; the way I write demands I just keep going, and the smells make it feel more real to me._

_To the strategically anonymous reviewer named "NOOO AHH NOO", my girlfriend Jessi told me to lay off all the Puck stuff because it was supposed to be a Jacob/Kurt story, so I took her advice to heart. I'm not cutting him out of the story— he'll just have a slightly less central role from now on. Don't worry; I'm not getting rid of him completely! ;) _

_

* * *

_

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**23: The Chase**

The warehouse was dimly lit and filled to its capacity with furniture; some were wrapped in plastic and tape, others covered partially in cardboard or in boxes filled with those foam packing peanuts every child loves to play with. Kurt's eyes had barely begun to adjust when she pulled him further into the darkness, weaving around piles of shipments and damaged or stored goods.

The whole place smelled as though no one had been there in a long time, the stench of dust and mildew making him want to gag, even though the undertones of wood and fabric softener were slightly more pleasant. It had an eerie silence to it, so much so that his breathing seemed horribly out of place, and his footsteps echoed for a moment, only to be absorbed by the numerous soft things that filled the space.

She let go of his shoulder for a moment, and he stood stalk still, unable to really process anything beyond the ache of his shoulder and the throbbing of his nose. It was still bleeding, sluggishly dripping into the scarf gagging him as he watched his captor swiftly grab a couch from atop a pile of teetering packages (her inhuman strength only vaguely surprising him at this point) and drop it only the floor in front of him. Her smile glinted in some kind of imaginary light as she tore the plastic off the sofa in one swift movement, grinning at him in the gloom.

"We might as well be comfy while we wait," she said as an explanation before roughly shoving him down onto it.

Kurt had to admit that the couch was comfortable, but even as he sunk into the giving plush cushion, he couldn't relax. She sat daintily beside him as he sat stiffly, his back straight to the point of painfulness, cramped up with fear. His body was tense with anticipation, as if he expected her to kill him at any moment.

As though reading his thoughts, she reached out and brushed her icy fingers down his cheek. "Don't worry yet, darling," she whispered, and he cringed, remembering how just hours ago (had it really only been this morning?) Jacob had used that same nickname for him so lovingly. "I'm not going to hurt you until he's here to see it."

She swiped a fingertip under his nose, and his breath caught as she thoughtfully inspected the bloodied digit. Wide-eyed with an oddly curious mix of fascination and horror, Kurt could only stare as she lifted the finger to her mouth and licked the blood away. It was like a horrific train wreck— it made him feel sick to his stomach, but he just _couldn't look away_.

"Mm," she hummed, licking her lips with a soft smile. "Delicious."

Kurt almost threw up then, just because the whole idea of this... _thing_... enjoying the taste of his blood was too horrible to even imagine. He felt proud that he didn't faint, even though his head swam slightly when his brain registered that she couldn't possibly be _human_, an awareness that only proved to further befuddle him.

"Don't worry, sweetie, I'm sure it won't be long now," she confided in him as she settled back onto the sofa to wait, lazily drawing ice-cold patterns on his neck with the tips of her fingers, barely brushing against his skin but leaving a wake of goosebumps nonetheless. "He's probably already on his way to _rescue_ you."

She laughed, and his eyes went wide with realisation: He was just a _lure_. He was just a _trap_. This whole ordeal he had been put through, this dangerous situation he had been thrust unceremoniously into had been a _ploy_. He was the bait, and Jacob was the prey.

Kurt's eyes filled with unshed tears he tried to blink away, turning his head so that _she _wouldn't see them. Unabated guilt gnawed at his stomach; somehow, he had managed to put both himself and Jacob into this. Jacob was coming to save him, coming to rescue him, and he was going to walk straight into her little trap.

_This can't be happening._

* * *

It was exactly like his nightmare, his repeating dream that had haunted him since landing in Lima, except it was entirely different. It wasn't some unknown treasure on the line this time, it was Kurt, and the fear for his imprintee's safety drove Jacob to near insanity as his paws fought for purchase in the moist soil.

Puck's transformation didn't cause a single slowed step; he absently thought to ask how Kurt's dad was and got a picture of the hospital in return. Words were useless when all their energy was being put forth into running, chasing, and hoping that Kurt was still alive to rescue when they got to wherever the hell the vampire had taken him. The recentness of Puck's transformation meant that he had much more energy now than he would in a few months— much like how newborn vampires are the strongest, most dangerous ones— and it wasn't long until he caught up with Jacob, despite the head start.

Familiar footfalls, almost identical to the ones he had taken in his nightmare, guided him through woods and over roads and even around the outskirts of Findlay, a town similar to Lima in size, but more like Forks in smell. He diligently followed daunting stench of vampire, following the same path Kurt's SUV as he ran. The smell of his own fear seemed to grow with every desperate inhale he took, so strong he almost choked on it.

Farmland whizzed by, and he was vaguely aware that it was nearing the wee hours of the morning; a gigantic wolf bolting around their fields was probably not a sight that most farmers were used to waking up to. He took a slight detour, weaving his way through the tall stalks of corn and patches of trees and wild areas to avoid detection. Puck caught up with him as he ran through a thin wooded area between Fostoria and Fremont, falling easily into stride next to him.

_How much further, do you reckon? _he asked, his brain practically panting along with his body. He had pushed himself to him absolute limits in order to gain the ground he had lost while taking Mr. Hummel to the hospital, and while now he had slowed a little to stay in step with Jacob, his limbs were exhausted from the sudden exertion.

_Not far. The smells getting stronger, _Jake grumbled, focussing his remaining energy on finding purchase in the loose soil.

After skirting around the city of Fremont, according to several well-place signs, the duo found themselves following a muddy creek north, so that the farmland faded into thickly wooded areas and dirt roads.

The sky was starting to lighten when the smell of vampire became so overwhelming both wolves opted top breath through their mouths. They no longer needed to follow the faint trails of the smell as they exited the dense forest and found themselves on a dirt road on the edge of Port Clinton, because the stink was everywhere, think and fresh. They slowed their place as they approached the warehouses up ahead, lit dimly by a single streetlight in the modest clearing. There was no question as to which warehouse it was in; the scuffed trail of recent footprints led from Kurt's Navigator to the closed metal door.

Jacob barely spared the car a glance. It had been abandoned on the edge of the clearing, clearly empty as two of its doors were open and where was no movement from inside. That meant that the vampire was holding Kurt hostage inside the building, doing god-knows-what to him in the meantime.

Jacob changed quickly, splaying out onto the dirt in his human form on his hands and knees. Puck whimpered slightly as he tugged on his cut-offs. "I can't scare Kurt, if he's still conscious," he grumbled as he fought with a pantleg, deftly doing up the button once they were on and walking cautiously towards the warehouse.

When he reached the door he turned to Puck. "Go around back," he whispered, looking the giant wolf that was his current Beta in the eye. "Find another way in. We have to corner it; give it no way to escape."

Puck growled and nodded his huge head, turning and disappearing into the gloom as he raced around the enormous building. Jacob took a deep breath and grabbed the bottom of the door, heaving the metal upwards with one backbreaking Herculean shove.

This was it.


	24. Faint

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: I really am a tease, aren't I?_

_I'm not quite happy with this chapter at all, even after rewriting it three or four times almost in its entirety. The entire story was planned around me having a dream about THIS SCENE (wow, Stephenie Meyer much?) and the one to follow, but now that I finally get to write them, it isn't coming out how I imagined. *pulls hair* Oh, well. I tried._

_Patricia Sage, I'm sure Burt's fine, and is in very good hands at the hospital. I really can't spare him a scene right now, but I promise I'll try to fit him in later when the (quiet possibly failed attempts at) action dies down._

_To NOOO AHH NO: Thank you. That means a lot. (And I read and listen to all my reviews. No exceptions.)_

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**24: Faint**

She gripped Kurt's arm tightly and yanked him to his feet. He let out a little squeak of surprise and pain— her pull aggravated his already injured shoulder, and tears of pain pricked his eyes once more as she hauled him to his feet.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered dangerously, obviously not expecting a reply from the terrified (and gagged) teen.

Kurt's finely tuned ears practically swivelled in the silence, searching for the noise to which she was referring. He heard it after a moment, growling, and then the metal-on-metal sound of the door opening in the distance. A sliver of moonlight from the outside fell across the ceiling, not impaired by the tall stacks of shipment.

His kidnapper grinned icily, baring her teeth. "Let the games begin," she breathed into his ear.

He shuddered as he heard light footfalls approaching— _Jacob._ Kurt closed his eyes, fearing what was about to happen and trying to will his boyfriend to turn around and leave with only this thoughts, something so mind-numbingly stupid he wasn't even able to admit to himself he was doing it. Still, he tried.

The soft thudding grew louder, and then Jake rounded the corner of the pile of boxed dining room table sets in front of them, catching sight of them immediately. Kurt was almost frightened by the expression on his face— a hardened, determined scowl with fury burning with great intensity behind his normally friendly and loving brown eyes— it was so un-Jacob-like that it made him actually physically cringe.

Jacob made to spring towards them, but Kurt's captor roughly grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head to one side, exposing the smooth length of his neck to her. "One more step and I bite him," she threatened, and while the words made Jacob's blood run cold, Kurt had no idea why Jacob stopped midstride. He was confused beyond anything he'd ever come across before.

_Bite_ him? What was she, some sort of vampire? Because the only vampire he knew was Tina, and those fangs had been totally fake. Besides, his captor didn't have fangs, did she?

"Just let him go. I imagine it's me you want, not him. He doesn't know anything; he's innocent," Jacob said slowly, a pleading tone edging the sound of his usually cheerful and charismatic voice. He put his hands up like a white flag and hesitantly scooted forward about an inch on the dusty floor. "There's no reason for anyone to get bitten here—"

"Don't move!" she shrieked, pulling his hair farther and making his neck stretch to a painful angle away from her, so that the vein in his throat pulsed dangerously close to the surface.

Jacob stopped dead, barely breathing he held so still, eyes locked on the short distance between her mouth and his neck. There was no way he'd be able to get to Kurt in time if he made a move. He planted his feet firmly on the concrete, hands still up in the air.

"Alright. I'm not moving, see? Not moving. Why don't you just let Kurt go, and we'll talk about whatever you think I did that's made you so angry with me."

"_Talk _about it?" she spat, her eyes dark red his fury and thirst, "You killed my mate! Murdered him in cold blood! A mate for a mate, remember. I thought your precious _Bella _already taught you that lesson." She smiled dangerously. "I just wanted you to be here when I snapped his neck."

Kurt gulped, slamming his eyes shut. This had to be some kind of mistake, or some kind of sick joke, because Jacob would never _kill_ anyone. He couldn't have. It just didn't make any sense.

"I don't know what you're talking ab—" Jacob started, his mouth suddenly dry.

"_Laurent was my mate, and you do not even remember killing him?_" she whispered darkly, so quietly Kurt could barely hear her. But Jacob's hearing was superhuman, and his memory clicked into place was the words fell from her mouth.

"The dreadlock leech?" he asked, using Embry's nickname for the vampire in question. A thought struck him. "But I thought his mate was killed by the Volturi."

"My sisters know of magic which you cannot even _begin_ to comprehend, dog," she snarled, "If your filthy kind are too stupid to realise that it is possible to save a burning vampire from death, you do not deserve to walk the earth with us."

Then she laughed, a high-pitched cackle that made Kurt flinch away. She turned to Kurt, once again drawing a finger down his pale cheek, stroking away the remnants of a long-dried tear. "His blood is nearly irresistible, you know. Quite delectable, really. The fact that he is innocent in all this makes it all the more... delicious."

Jacob growled warningly, having to force himself not to spring to Kurt's aid, as she still held the upper hand. Kurt tried not to whimper; he was still trying to hold onto the dizzying facts that were being thrown to him, information he almost didn't _want _to understand, it was so dangerously grotesque.

"It wasn't really hard to find out who you'd imprinted on, really. You should really watch who you keep privy to your private life."

A white-hot flash of anger flitted across Jacob's brain, making him pull back his lip in a snarl. Did she really expect him to believe that one of his friends had sold him out? Was she really so stupid that she thought she could distract him with such nonsense? He watched her carefully, waiting for her guard to drop as she continued to rant, holding Kurt at a painful-looking angle.

"A few newborns to distract them were _all it took_ to let one of them slip—" She chuckled darkly, watching him carefully throughout her well-planned speech. "—and oh what a surprise to me it was when I found out _you'd_ switched teams. But now I understand; he really is rather pretty, isn't he? It's a shame I have to kill him, really. Maybe I should just do the world a favour and... _turn him_ instead."

Jacob made a move impulsively; he took a half-step forward, and she yanked Kurt's hair harder and put her lips just millimetres from his exposed throat in response.

"What did I say about _not moving_?" she said curtly, and he stopped himself, though he felt as if his skin was crawling. He didn't like her having her cold hands all over Kurt like that; it made him want to throw something, or kill something, preferably the undead monstrosity pulling on Kurt's prized locks. "I'm not finished."

"Listen—" Jacob searched his memory for the correct name, sure he had heard it before. "Irina?"

When she didn't dispute the name, he smiled, eyes meeting a pair in the darkness above a section of paper-wrapped countertops and a plan forming in the depths of his brain.

"Irina. Listen, I don't know where you got your information from, but Kurt is not my mate," he said slowly, trying to think of a lie to get Kurt as far away from her as possible. "Someone lied to you. I imprinted on Renesmee Cullen."

Irina snorted, her eyes wild. "The immortal child. She causes _so many_ problems, doesn't she?" She smiled. "But not for you. Your broke the connection by leaving La Push." Eyes still locked on his, she bent down and pulled Kurt's head up a little, so that her mouth was next to his ear. "Didn't you know that your boyfriend didn't choose you first? The big bad wolf was imprinted on another before you."

The she laughed, never breaking eye contact. "But you don't even know what that means, do you, Kurt? Imprinting is like love at first sight, all beautiful happy bunnies and rainbows; but he didn't choose you at all, really. He was forced into loving you by his imprint—"

Jacob blanched, realising how awful that sounded. "Kurt," he said, trying to meet the smaller boy's eyes as he stared determinedly at the concrete floor. "It isn't like that at all. She's making it sound horrible, but it isn't like that—"

Of course, Kurt could not reply around the expensive silk-cotton blend filling his mouth. He looked up from the floor to examine first Jacob, who was talking aloud to him, trying to convince him that he did, in fact, 'choose him'; and then looked to Irina, who whispered darkly about how it was never really even his choice. His brows furrowed as he looked between the two, utterly confused.

He honestly didn't pick up on much of what they were saying; their words fell on deaf ears. The rush of his heartbeat was all he had heard since she said that Jacob had, apparently, committed murder; a fact so incomprehensible, it sent his brain into a tailspin. And Jacob hadn't even denied it when Irina accused him of killing her mate— boyfriend? husband?— Laurent. Kurt was so horrified that his boyfriend could even _do_ something like that, he tuned out the rest of their conversation.

Jacob watched Kurt carefully, looking for some kind of response at all. He didn't even look like he could hear them, his eyes wide but unfocussed. He changed tactics, turning to Irina instead.

"Irina," he said. "Laurent's death wasn't my fault, or even my own doing. He broke the treaty, and went after a human on _our territory_—" He frowned, remembering that fateful date quite well. "—and we, as a Pack, were just defending our own. Self defence is hardly _murder_—"

"_You killed my mate_," Irina spat. "You need to be punished for what you did! You need to feel what I felt after you killed him in order for you to possibly understand how much damage you caused, how much pain your actions cost me, you stupid, _filthy_ dog."

She tightened her grip on Kurt's arm, bruising her fingerprints into his pale flesh. Kurt made a noise of protest, squirming against her grip.

"I was protecting my family. We all were," Jacob reasoned, watching as her anger just grew more intense; he was stoking the fire, and eventually, something had to give.

"Your _family_. The mother of the vile half-breed; Bella Swan should have died that day. The Volturi would never have become involved, my sisters and I would never have become involved, and Renesmee Cullen would never have been born. It would have saved us all a lot of grief, a lot of pain, a lot of struggle. Laurent _must_ have known this; he was trying to do us all a favour!"

"He was trying to help Victoria repay some kind of blood dept, because Edward killed _her_ mate. That's what this comes down to: your mate was a leech, and you are no better than he is."

"You know nothing about who Laurent was, you flea-bitten mongrel!" Irina snarled.

"He was a good for nothing leech who decided to follow the ridiculous cycle of murder, rather than put an end to it! I am _so sorry_ that I have no respect for your blood-sucking boyfriend, but he tried to kill my best friend!" His sarcasm did not go over well.

"Your best friend who produced the godforsaken immortal child—"

"My best friend who fell in love, got married, and then had a baby with her husband. Gee, that sounds _so awful_," Jacob cut her off, glaring her down from where he stood. Irina gave a huff of annoyance, still clutching Kurt like her life depended on it, but not moving to injure him.

"You _obnoxious_—" she shrieked, and Jacob smiled, going right back into the fray with his words.

"Laurent was a pathetic—"

"—_flea-bitten_—"

"—blood-sucking—"

"—_filthy_—"

"—heartless—"

"—_stupid_—"

"—monster of a leech!"

"—_ignorant mutt!_"

Kurt's knees shook as he watched the loud exchange, his heart racing. He met Jacob's eyes, something he had been almost scared to do— and saw love and fear there, both for _him_. Irina could have killed him, could still kill him, and it made Jacob scared. That look was all it took to convince him that Jacob was not something that he should fear; he couldn't be, with that much love in his eyes.

Irina was screaming insults at Jacob, her hands so cold it almost burned his skin through the thin fabric of his pyjamas. Kurt wasn't exactly sure what set finally her off, but the fingers were suddenly gone. He had barely been holding himself up, and his knees gave way once she released him, sending him tumbling to the concrete. Unable to get his hands out in front of him to brake his fall, his cheek took the brunt of the impact, sending a shock of pain up to his brain.

If he had closed his eyes then like he wanted to, he would have missed it; an enormous shadow leaping over him at lunging toward Irina, a monster. With a shuddering gasp around his gag, Kurt rolled himself away from the monster on instinct, pushing his body flush to the couch he had been sitting on before, trying to move himself out of harm's way.

It looked as though Jacob was fighting with both Irina and the gigantic creature with his bare hands, their struggle illuminated only by the soft filter of daylight breaking behind the open door of the warehouse, putting their actually bodies into shadow. They were moving so fast, everything seemed blurred— too fast, Kurt realised; inhumanly fast— and then Jacob let out a howl of pain, backing off for a moment. There was a split second of silence, and then the sound of fabric tearing as Jacob leaped for Irina, his clothes shredding away as his body transformed.

For the second time that night, Kurt fainted.


	25. Torn

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: __**WARNING:**__ I get kind of descriptive in this chapter, and it might get a little... __**graphic/violent**__. If it bothers you, or at any point you feel uncomfortable, just skip over that part and find the line-break; you won't really be missing much, and it's completely tame after the break. Although you might want to read a few lines before the break, actually. Oh, I don't know._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**25: Torn**

Puck watched from the shadows, eyes glowing faintly yellow in the near-darkness. Outside, the world was just barely hitting dawn, the sky lightening but the sun not yet rising. Inside the warehouse, a shouting match between Jacob and the vampire chick was taking place— Puck kept his eyes locked on the vile leech, watching with disdain as she put her cold hands all over poor Kurt.

He watched carefully for an opening, meeting Jacob's eyes a few times only to find the same thing; _not yet_. Patience was not a characteristic Puck was used to needing, but he used every ounce he had waiting for Jacob to get Kurt out of the way. That was there unspoken plan: get Kurt out of harm's way, then kill then kill the vampire, if no peaceful solution could be found.

Puck was itching to get his paws on her, his mouth salivating at the idea of tearing her to shreds; thoughts that he once would have gone to seek psychiatric help about, but now just seemed natural to his being. But still he sat patiently, watching as the argument heated up between the two, with Kurt stranded helplessly in the middle of it all.

It was something little that sent the vampire off the deep-end; Jake insulted her mate to such a degree that she boiled over, lunging at him and throwing Kurt to the side. The moment Kurt was out of the way, Puck tensed his muscles and leaped clean over the couch, a determined growl at the back of his throat.

Irina screeched and put her arms up to block his attack, using all her strength to throw him off and send him spinning away, his claws slamming against the floor of the warehouse and leaving deep gouges in the concrete. He took a running start this time, snapping at her ankles with his strong jaws as Jake fought her hand-to-hand, still human.

The whole fight was a blur of movement, and Puck was depending on natural instinct, rather than actually being able to see what he was doing as he bit and clawed and fought tooth and nail to hurt the damn thing. Irina kept shoving him off rather easily, and it was starting to piss him off.

He almost missed the crucial moment, it happened so fast; Jacob jerked his hand back, howling a cry of pain and backing off. Irina turned to Puck and grinned, the blood on her teeth making her look like some batshit crazy chick out of a horror movie. Bitch had bitten Jacob!

The sound of tearing fabric alerted him to Jake's change, though it was the double vision that actually gave them an angle; seeing both sides of your prey when she can only see one is a good advantage. Puck lunged for her at the exact moment Jacob did, and they met in the middle. Irina floundered, trying to shake them both off, but failing.

Puck grabbed one of her arms between his teeth, clamping down like there would be no tomorrow if he didn't. Jacob did the same thing with her opposite ankle, leaving her with one free arm and leg, both unable to do much of anything but spasm about uselessly, trying to make contact with either of the elusive wolves.

Irina's arm was so cold it burned his tongue, so revolting-tasting that his eyes watered, but Puck refused to let go as their destruction tactic became clear: grab and pull. The sound was probably the worst part— her screams were shrill and loud, inhuman in their high-pitched-ness. His sensitive canine ears protested against the sound, almost driving him insane, but he pulled harder in the opposite direction as Jake was pulling her leg, effectively tearing her apart. Her blood (not blood, Puck reminded himself, _venom_) smelled sickly sweet, and her skin make metallic shredding noises as it tore, which was nearly as awful sounding as her screams.

He gave one last yank and the arm came free, leaving a trail of silvery fluid in its wake as he dropped it from his mouth. Irina had stopped screaming even as Puck watched Jake's mouth descend over her throat, and as the metallic noise sounded again in the near-silence. He couldn't bring himself to look away as Jake dismembered the rest of her still twitching body, though the awful sight would be burned into his memory for many nights to come.

He had just aided in murder, and while he _knew _it was justified, he _knew _it had to be done, he _knew_ she wasn't human (she'd killed people, she'd kidnapped Kurt, she was a blood-sucker, she was his mortal enemy by nature), there was still something that stirred in his stomach, something akin to guilt.

_Grab that leg, would you? We need to burn them. _

Jake's thought broke him out of his own melancholy, and he quickly grabbed the limb, following Jacob as he trotted exhaustedly out of the warehouse through the open door. Irina's remains were piled at the edge of the road, and Puck turned around, feeling rather sick. The smell was awful too, as Jake somehow managed to light her on fire.

_You'll get used to it_, Jacob thought, gently comforting the suddenly nauseous wolf, _the first time is the hardest._

The pair trudged back to the warehouse slowly, a slightly limp making Jacob walk slower than he might have before. There was no rush now that Irina had been disposed of, so Puck followed his just as slowly, apprehensive.

_Are you gonna be okay?_ he asked, because Jacob looked like he was in a lot of pain, and was leaving tiny drops of dark-red blood with every tentative step forward with his front left paw.

_I'll be fine. We have an immunity to the venom, _Jacob mentally grunted as they rounded a tower of packaged furniture. _Hurts like a bitch, though._

Puck chuckled quietly, looking at the unconscious boy beside the single unwrapped couch in the middle of the warehouse as they approached. During the fight, he hadn't really gotten a good look at him; now, he looked small and fragile, tied up like some kind of animal. Jacob whined at the back of his throat, lying down perpendicular to his imprintee and just looking at him. Puck vaguely wondered how the noises hadn't woken the countertenor, but was more weirded out by the fact that Jacob had yet to shift back into a human and untie him.

_I don't have any clothes_, he answered, and Puck blanched, forgetting for a moment that his Alpha could read his every thought when they were in this form. Grunting, Puck walked behind a stack of kitchen cabinets and changed, pulling on his pants in one fluid motion. Oh, yeah. He was getting good at this.

* * *

Kurt awoke to the strange feeling of something warm and wet and furry pressing against his neck. His eyes flew open and he was met with the most peculiar sight; a huge dog— no, _wolf_, his mind corrected automatically— was nosing him under the chin. Gasping around the gag, he struggled to get away, pushing himself further beneath the couch. The wolf backed off a little, his eyes almost too expressive to be an animal as he whimpered.

It hit Kurt like a punch to the stomach. He hadn't _dreamed_ all that stuff; he'd seen Jacob... _transform_... His head was spinning and his breathing was heavy as he tried to grasp the implications of what he had witnessed. None of this could be _real!_ It didn't make any logical sense.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw the second monster— _wolf_— walk behind a pile of shipment and then emerge from the other side as Puck, doing up the button on a pair of jeans. Kurt was stunned. _Puck _was one of these things too?

The aforementioned bully walked right past the russet-coloured wolf, bending down to his level and pulling at the knotted scarf around his head. After a moment or two of fumbling with the knot at the back of his head, Puck grumbled a half-hearted, "Oh, fuck it," and just ripped the expensive fabric and pulled it from between Kurt's teeth.

While Kurt spluttered and coughed, taking deep breaths to try to steady himself, Puck made quick work of the silk cuff binding his hands together, releasing them as well. Carefully and unsteadily, Kurt lifted himself from the ground, shading on shaky legs and rubbing the dried blood from under his nose and his upper lip with a ruined silk sleeve.

"Puck? I... I don't..." He paused, the strangeness of the situation overwhelming.

Puck laid a hand on his shoulder, a strangely affectionate gesture, considering the teen once thought he could 'catch gay' from casually touching him. Kurt's bottom lip trembled as he looked up at his former bully, noticing the subtle changes in his appearance; his eyes were lighter, his shoulders broader, his muscles more defined, and his height had increased by few inches. He also looked older, somehow, as though in the few days he'd missed from school he had aged a couple of years. Normally, Kurt would never have considered such a silly idea; now, he wasn't so sure what to think.

"He loves you," Puck said gruffly, nodding his head towards the wolf. "And if you love him, and I know you do, you're going to stick around, even though he's... we're... different."

Kurt scoffed a little, trying to regain some normality in the face of so much strangeness. He looked down at the wolf and then quickly away again, his eyes watering slightly. "What... what _are_ you?" he breathed, so quiet he barely even heard himself.

Puck opened his mouth to answer, then looked at his relative warily. "Well, what am I supposed to tell him, dude? You know what— you should explain. I've never been good at explaining and..." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, shrugging at Kurt.

"Why is he still like that? Can't he change back?" Kurt wondered aloud, and Puck let out a bark of laughter— after seeing Puck return from wolf form, that was the only thing Kurt could think of the noise as, a bark— and grinned wolfishly.

"He can. He just doesn't have any clothes," he snickered, toeing a piece of torn cloth on the ground as evidence. "Oh, actually, I think I saw some work clothes over by the other entrance, I'll be right back..."

Puck disappeared around a corner quickly, and though Kurt was already protesting his leaving with a whined, "_Puck!_" the boy was already gone. Nervously, Kurt turned back to the animal— because he still couldn't believe that _thing_ was _Jacob_— and tried not to give his little nervous laugh that seemed to annoy almost everyone. He fiddled with his hands, pulling at his torn sleeve and pushing his eyebrows together.

Even lying on his stomach in a submissive pose, Jacob looked about as non-threatening as a full grown bear; he was massive, and scary, and Kurt couldn't really look at him. A wet nose nudged his ankle and he jumped, looking down at his with watery eyes, meeting the warm brown eyes he recognised and loved.

He was torn between being scared of Jacob and loving him even more; but when the wolf nosed him again gently, wagging his fluffy tail and looking at him hopefully, Kurt knew he was a goner.

"Oh, _Jake_," Kurt mumbled, following his instinct and bending down a little to cautiously run his hands through Jacob's fur. His fear was quelled by the sight of Jacob's eyes, so sad that Kurt seemed to have rejected him. Kurt's hands shook as he gently patted his neck, shaking his head and holding back tears, because actually, this was rather _nice_.

He sat down on the floor cross-legged next to his boyfriend, barely even caring about the awful state of his once beautiful and expensive silk pyjamas. He bit his lip and ran his fingers across Jacob's face, watching, fascinated, as the wolf nuzzled gently into the palm of his hand. How he ever could have been scared of Jacob eluded him as he buried his face in the nape of his boyfriend's neck, wrapping his arms around him.

"You saved me," he mumbled into the fur, the tears silently overflowing the wells of his eyes and landing in the reddish-brown coat.

When Puck returned, triumphantly holding a pair of workman's overalls, he found them like that, cuddled up next to each other lovingly. Kurt's small body was completely sheltered by Jacob's massive one, dwarfing the countertenor in comparison, but somehow, they fit together. He paused to admire them like that, another feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach.

What was that, jealousy? He was jealous that Kurt had so readily excepted Jacob was what he was, even though he didn't understand it? He shook his Mohawked head quickly, dismissing those thoughts.

He was, however, torn between announcing himself an giving Jake the clothes so that he could shift back (_and not mentally scar Kurt further_, his brain reminded him of Jacob's fleeting thoughts before Puck had shifted) and leaving them like that for a while. They looked... happy.

Maybe he wanted something like that, but he certainly wasn't jealous.


	26. Wounded

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: Sorry I've taken so long to update; after an appendicitis scare (I'm good now, don't worry!) and a spontaneous (and computerless) vacation to Florida because my parents are strange and totally awesome, I really haven't had the time. But I am back now, and trying to get back into the groove of writing, so hopefully I will finish up this monstrosity soon._

_Please note: I am giving you guys a long and emotional chapter (coming in at about 3,000 words) to hopefully make up for my prolonged absence; enjoy it now, because there might not be another one for a while. I'm sort of going through a ton of real-life drama, and might not have time even though I'm home now._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**26: Wounded**

Puck made sure to scuff his feet loudly over the floor as he approached the pair, and both looked up at the sound. Jake stood carefully on his three good paws, keeping the injured one held close to his chest as he manoeuvred around Kurt and took the overalls Puck was offering to him in his teeth. Kurt watched him warily as he limped around a stack of boxes to change, apparently embarrassed to be naked in front of his imprintee.

"He's hurt," Kurt said, his voice coming off as being flustered, even as his body slumped against the side of the couch, looking exhausted. Puck nodded, perching himself on the arm of the couch and crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"He got bitten during the fight." Puck stopped when he saw the look on Kurt's face, all wide-eyed and panicked like a deer in headlights. "Don't worry though," he quickly backpedalled, uncrossing his arms and waving them about haphazardly to try and retract the statement. "We're immune to the venom, so it'll heal up alright."

Kurt relaxed slightly after the reassurance, and even more so when Jacob appeared from the other side of the boxes, wearing the too-small overalls that barely went past his knees and cradling his left hand with his right across his stomach. The small trickle of blood over his tanned fingers had Kurt feeling somewhat queasy, but he quickly stood and moved closer to his boyfriend nonetheless.

"There's a first-aid kit in my car," he said, the gusto in his voice failing to cover up the fact that his entire body was gently shaking. His trembling fingers latched onto Jacob's bicep above his uninjured hand and he led the taller teen out of the warehouse, trying to look self-assured in front of a smirking Noah Puckerman; old habits die hard.

"I'll be fine, Kurt," Jacob protested a little once they were outside, but the glare Kurt sent him had him closing his mouth, objections forgotten, as he was pushed unceremoniously into the divers' seat of the Navigator.

The doors on the beautiful car had been left open during the scuffle, and Kurt found himself immensely glad that no one had stumbled upon his baby and tried to take it for a joyride. The keys were even still in the ignition, although Irina had turned off the engine.

Taking deep breaths to calm himself, Kurt wandered around the front of the large vehicle and opened to passengers' side door, climbing in and riffling through the glove compartment. Jacob watched him carefully, as though ready to catch him if he fainted, or had some other major breakdown— but Kurt had always been good during a crisis, and he was still running on a slight adrenaline high.

Kurt pulled unopened red plastic case from his glove compartment, making a triumphant noise as he opened the kit and took out an antiseptic wipe, handily labelled for stressful times like these. Jacob wordlessly offered Kurt his left hand, twisting in his seat awkwardly so Kurt has a good angle to study the injury.

He hissed when Kurt started to wipe away the blood around the bite, the antiseptic stinging more than he had expected. "It's not that bad," Kurt declared happily as he looked at the semicircular pattern where Irina's teeth left marks in that fleshy part of Jacob's hand between his thumb and forefinger. He took a sterile compress pad from its marked place in the kit and pressed it gently to the bite, bending it in half and folding it over to cover the matching marks on his palm.

"Kurt..."

Kurt's head snapped up from where he had been fumbling with a gauze wrap to secure the bandage, hands still shaking. Jacob opened his mouth to say more, but didn't have the heart to tell Kurt what he was doing would probably have no effect whatsoever on his recovery.

When Jacob didn't provide any further words, Kurt went back to what he was doing, unrolling the gauze and starting to wrap it tightly around the pad, taping it in place with medical tape when he was finished.

"You'll want to change that again in the next forty-eight hours," Kurt told him quietly, closing the kit and storing it in its previous hiding spot at the back of the glove compartment. "And you should really considering having a tetanus shot, if you haven't in the past six years." He closed his hands in his lap delicately, staring down at the torn cuffs of his pyjama top in contemplation.

There was a moment of silence where Jacob wasn't sure if Kurt would say anything else, as he looked rather unnerved, staring straight downward.

But then, his words so quiet someone else might have missed it, he mumbled, "What was she?" Because he hadn't heard anyone else say the word before seriously, expect perhaps Principal Figgins.

"My people call them the Cold Ones," Jacob admitted sheepishly, his throat tight with emotion as he watch Kurt's fingers twitch. "You palefaces call them vampires."

"And you... killed her mate?" His voice was a little stronger when he asked the question, though he was biting his lip when he looked up to face Jacob.

"I did. Well, my Pack did. He broke a treaty made by my great-grandfather with their kind; he... tried to kill a very good friend of mine," he explained, turning slowly so that he was no longer twisted around to look at Kurt, instead staring through the clear windshield. Puck was pacing the length of the front of the warehouse back and forth with his head bowed in thought and his feet absently kicking stones off the concrete.

"Bella." It wasn't a question, and Jacob glanced back at Kurt, surprised when the name came up. While Kurt had been caught in the middle of their fight he'd picked up on several key facts, and while all of this seemed like a ridiculously complicated dream (though the sharp pain in his shoulder and the dark bruises forming on his chest contradicted that), he was trying to take it all in stride as best as he could. "Was she the girl you first... _imprinted_ on?"

"What? No!"

His voice came out slightly strangled-sounding, and he wasn't quite sure why. He still hated how his story-line arc with Bella ended (because he sometimes liked to imagine his life as a bizarre movie, everyone does it at some point or other), but he thought he'd gotten over the whole thing. A sigh emerged from him when he realised he really _hadn't_.

"She was the girl I thought I was in love with, and I mean, I thought I had imprinted on her for a while, but that was because I didn't really know what it felt like to imprint. Irina didn't explain it very well at all, Kurt— it isn't like love at first sight. It's so much more than that. It's like gravity shifts, and suddenly, it isn't gravity that's holding you to the Earth, it's that person. You would _die_ for them."

Jacob had this look of sincerity in his eyes that almost made Kurt want to cry again, but he bit down on the inside of his cheek to hold back the tears. "Who was she, then? The girl you _did_ imprint on?" he asked, because he wanted to _know_; he wanted to know everything about this world he's been thrust into, because he hated not having a clue what's going on, to the extent that it's even stronger than the hate he harboured for Rachel Berry's owl sweater.

"Her name is Renesmee, and she's Bella's daughter. And she's half-vampire, but that's sort of a long story."

Kurt frowned, because that short explanation really didn't explain much, but he brushed it aside as something that could be dealt with later. "And you were in love with her?"

"No, I wasn't. Kurt, you have to understand something; when you imprint on someone, you become whatever they need you to be. Be that a protector, a lover, or ever just a _friend_, you become that person for them. It's like a binding contract. I imprinted on Renesmee on the day she was born, but I've never felt anything more for her than the urge to protect her from any danger she might encounter in her life. I imprinted on _you_ the first time I heard you sing, Kurt, and I was drawn to you like... flies to honey? Is that the expression?"

Kurt laughs at Jacob's slightly puzzled expression and nods, despite the gravity of the conversation they're having. His heart was thumping wildly as Jacob continued, moving his hands around as he spoke to try and convey an emotion that you really couldn't understand until you _felt it_.

"I love _you_, Kurt, and I don't know how to explain it properly, or how it happened to me twice, but it's like... my whole _world_ revolves around you. I never wanted this to happen to you, and I'm so sorry that it took me so long to figure out what had happened. When I knew you were missing, in danger, I just... I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you." He tentatively reached out and put his good hand on Kurt's knee. "I would do _anything_ for you, Kurt. I _will_ do anything for you. Even if you ask me to leave and never show my face in Lima again, I'll do it, if that's what you want."

Kurt stared at him, stunned for a moment into complete silence. It was deafening to Jacob, the soft sounds of the wind and the birds awakening and Puck pacing back and forth kicking stones sounding like thunder in his ears as he waited for a response breathlessly.

"Why would I want that?" Kurt asked in his most condescending tone, because he couldn't help it. Why on _Earth_ would Jacob think he wanted him gone?

"You must think I'm a monster," he said quietly, removing his hand from Kurt's knee and turning away from him to hide the tears welling in his eyes. Because he was a man, dammit, a _shape-shifter_, for god's sake, and men like him weren't supposed to cry.

"I don't know exactly _what_ you are," Kurt conceded, "And I'm pretty sure you've committed murder on multiple occasions, but I don't... I don't think of ou as a monster." He sighed, reaching out to grab onto Jacob's arm to make Jacob look at him, staring into his big, puppy-dog brown eyes (which would later occur to him as being conveniently ironic) and trying not to cry himself. "You're just Jacob to me, and that hasn't changed. You make me feel... complete."

Jacob slowly reached up and removed Kurt's hand from his upper arm, gently entwining his fingers with Kurt's much slimmer, paler ones. "Thank you," he murmured, because he would never have expected so much from Kurt. But Kurt was stronger than he looked, maybe stronger than any of them knew, and he wasn't about to give up his man that easily. What could he say; he was smitten.

A tap on the windshield startled them from their big cliché as-seen-on-tv moment, causing them to look up at a disgruntled-looking Puck.

"I understand that you guys are sharing a moment and talking about your feelings and shit, but we should probably get going soon. Kurt's dad is still in the hospital, and if we want to be there when he wakes up—"

Kurt swore loudly, and Puck grinned, having never heard the usually mild-tempered countertenor use such language before, even in the heat of battle over some fashion disaster.

"Oh God, I completely forgot about my father," he whined, putting his hands over his face. "Is he ok? He's in the hospital?"

"He had a head injury," Puck explained, "It's probably just a concussion, but they couldn't tell me anything because I'm not related to him."

Kurt's head whipped around to Jacob, his eyes wide with concern. "We have to go and see him. What if he wakes up and I'm not there? What if they call the police when he tells them I'm missing?" He was almost hyperventilating, his brain moving a mile a minute.

"Get out of the driver's seat," he practically ordered Jacob, pulling himself out of the passenger's seat and stumbling around the front of the Navigator. "You can have shotgun. Puck, get in the back." He practically fell into the driver's seat once Jacob had gotten out, grabbing the keys and turning the engine over.

A tanned hand reached around the steering wheel and turned the engine back off before Kurt had even started reaching for his seatbelt, causing Kurt to look up in anger. "Hold it right there, Hummel. You're not driving anywhere," Puck said, pulling the keys out of the ignition and taking them away.

"Puck's right," Jacob agreed quietly, his eyes scanning over his obviously-exhausted boyfriend with concern. He had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, and he was favouring his right side heavily over his left.

Kurt scowled at the two of them, crossing him arms over his chest with a wince. "I'm _fine_. Give me my keys, Puck."

"No. Look, Kurt, you're exhausted,_ and_ you're injured. You can't drive like that, it would be irresponsible, not to mention plain _stupid_. And Jake shouldn't drive with one hand, either, so you two get in the back and _I'll_ drive."

Puck looked a little too happy over the fact that he was the only viable driver, but all the kids at McKinley had dreamed about driving the Navigator at some point or other, even Puck. There was even an unspoken rule among the jocks that while Kurt himself is fair game, no one touches the car. It was just too beautiful to destroy, no matter who its owner is.

"I wouldn't trust you with my hairspray, let alone my _car_. You're insane, Puckerman. Give me my keys back!" He snatched at the keys dangling from Puck's hand, but the motion almost sent him tumbling out of the car.

"No."

The two boys glared at each other, like some kind of macho staring contest, and Jacob sighed quietly. Neither looked like they were going to back down, which meant he had to say something, or they were never going to get to the hospital.

"In this one instance, Kurt," Jacob said slowly, emphasising that this was a one-time deal, "Puck is absolutely right. He helped me save your life; the least you can do is let him drive your car." It was kind of a low blow, but if it solved this confrontation, he was willing to risk a mildly angry Kurt later. "We can sit in the back together, and you can get some sleep on the drive."

Kurt gave a huff of annoyance, looking between the two shape-shifters warily. He sighed, the temptation of getting some real sleep after this stressful and sleepless night too great to pass up. Slowly, he eased himself out of the front seat to stand in front of Puck, still glaring him down like he was the bane of Kurt's existence.

"Fine," he growled, "You can drive. But if you put _one scratch_ on my baby, and I swear I'll check, you're paying for it to get fixed."

Puck nodded eagerly, climbing into the front seat as Kurt climbed into the back. Jacob got in on the other side, fumbling a little with his seatbelt with his good hand before finally getting himself strapped in. Kurt had a similar problem, wincing when he tried to pull the shoulder strap over his chest. After a moment, he undid himself and slid into the middle seat, doing up the waist-only belt instead. Jacob didn't mind; now that they were directly beside each other, he could easily wrap an arm around his tired boyfriend's shoulders, careful not to aggravate the obviously sore one.

"You okay?" he inquired quietly as Puck started the engine once more and slowly pulled out of the lot and onto the road.

Kurt nodded sleepily, instinctively leaning in towards Jacob's warmth and laying his head on his boyfriend's chest. "I'll be fine. It's only a couple of bruises. I just really want to know my dad's okay."

"Shh, I know."

Jacob pressed a kiss to Kurt's temple, gently pulling Kurt a little closer to his chest. Kurt snuggled up into the warmth, and after a few minutes on the open road, the familiar buzz from the engine and the vibration from the car lulled him into a light sleep. Jacob kept his arm around him for the entire trip home, keeping him safe.

He would never let anyone hurt his Kurt like this again; and _that _was a promise.


	27. Lies

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: A belated thank-you to Casey, my wonderfully artistic friend who drew this ADORABLE picture of Kurt and Jacob:  
_**http :/ minky-girl-for-life . deviantart . com /#/d2vwpnk**_ (Remove the spaces!)  
I seriously did a very unmanly squeal of delight over it in real life, so be proud of yourself, girl. It really is the cutest thing ever, seriously. Aww. _

_(All my medical/hospital knowledge is from the last time I, personally, was in a hospital— two weeks ago from an appendicitis scare. They didn't give me my own room, I had this little curtained off area just big enough to fit a bed, IV stand and a couple of chairs; so that's what I'm going on. Minor emergencies like that, where the person needs constant monitoring, don't get a private room. Well, unless you're rich. If it's different in the States, I'm sorry, but I've never been in a hospital down there, so yeah.)_

_Also, this happened to turn out to be another really long chapter (even longer than the last), because I couldn't find somewhere else to cut it off at. Oh well, enjoy it anyway, because I think I really DO have writer's block now. D: _

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**27: Lies**

When the car stopped outside of the Hummel residence, Jacob had to nudge Kurt several times to get him to open his eyes. The first time he nudged him gently, and Kurt just made this little noise at the back of his throat and tightened the grip that his hand had gotten on the strap of his overalls, burrowing his face into Jacob's chest further like he wanted to stay there forever. With a chuckle, Jacob nudged him again, this time murmuring a, "Wake up, darling," and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

Kurt blearily looked up at him, eyes half-closed with sleep. After a moment, the night's events seemed to catch up with him, and he sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "Please tell me that I _dreamed _that I was kidnapped by a vengeful vampire and I let Noah Puckerman drive my car."

Jake shook his head, smiling ever-so-slightly. "Nope."

Puck turned around from the front seat, undoing his seatbelt in the turn. "Welcome back to Chez Hummel. Now go get changed, because if I let you go to the hospital looking like that, you'd get mad at me."

Kurt shifted around self-consciously for a moment, and then undid his seat belt. "I'll be like, ten minutes, I swear. Then we can go to the hospital," he promised quickly, opening the door of the SUV and charging out of it with a purpose.

"I highly doubt he'll be ten minutes," Puck confided in Jake as they quietly exited the car themselves, locking it behind them and following Kurt into the quiet house. "But whatever. Here, switch clothes with me."

"Why?"

"So that you can go with Kurt into the hospital. You're wearing blood-covered overalls that are six sizes too small for you, and have the name _Bill _on them." Puck snorted as Jake unconsciously looked down to check the name embroidered on the front pocket of the overalls, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "Unless you want them to try to treat your injuries, let's switch. I can run home after you two are inside to change, don't worry."

"You have a point."

Silently, Puck pulled the curtains in the living room closed and then moved to undo his jeans. They switched quickly, neither wanting to be caught naked should Kurt really be only ten minutes and walk in on them changing. After both had done up their new respective pants and Puck had fastened the clasps of the overalls, he reopened the curtains.

The sun was rising, turning the sky a mottled pink-orange that enveloped the Hummels' living room, reflecting off many of its shiny surfaces. Jacob bent and picked up a broken picture frame from the floor, holding the two L-shaped pieces gingerly.

"Hitting someone over the head with a picture of their family is totally evil, dude," Puck commented, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jacob couldn't help but agree; the blood on the corner of the wooden frame was in stark contrast with the smiling young family in the photo. Carefully, so as not to spill the broken glass onto the floor or tear it, he pulled the photo out of the broken frame and set it on the coffee table, admiring the happy smiles on their faces.

"Kurt is handling all this surprisingly well," Puck said, trying to ease the unspoken tension in the room. The smell of vampire was still fresh and raw, coating the surfaces of the house like a layer of dust.

"I know," Jacob groaned quietly, walking out of the living room and crossing the hall to the kitchen and dining room, heading straight for where he remembered the garbage can was hidden. After of disposing of the broken and now useless frame, making sure not to drop any glass shards, he turned back to Puck, who was leaning in the doorway.

"When I was first thrown into all this, I didn't accept it nearly as well, and I'd grown up with the stories of Cold Ones and Wolves from my mother," Puck remarked from his spot against the doorway, absently scratching at a freckle on his arm. "I'm still not sure I believe it, sometimes."

"You get used to it," Jacob replied simply, shrugging and moving past Puck back into the hallway, where he quickly smoothed out the bunched up rug at the door. "It stops feeling strange and unnatural after a while and you just... wake up knowing what you are, without having to think about it."

Puck nodded, moving to help straighten a mirror that had been tipped and was now angled wrongly on the wall.

"Kurt was almost _too _calm about it," Jacob continued, "And I'm not sure it's really sunken in yet. If I had told him sooner, he might have been more prepared—"

"Hey," Puck cut him off, shaking his head and reaching out to grab Jacob's arm. "None of this is your fault, Jake. Even if he had known, he wouldn't have been able to do anything to prevent this. Kurt is strong, and he'll get over it. You _need_ to do the same. And beating yourself up over something you could've have predicted is _not_ the way to do that."

Jacob nodded walking to the end of the hall and moving to stand in front of the door leading to the basement. It had easily been fifteen minutes, and Kurt had promised to be upstairs in ten, so he gently knocked on the door.

"Kurt, you okay?"

"Come in," came a quiet voice from downstairs, and without his inhuman hearing, he might have missed it.

"Kurt?" The door was open and he was down the stairs in an instant, the softness of Kurt's voice like a blaring warning sign that something was wrong. He didn't appear to be in any danger as he sat stiffly at his vanity, refusing to meet Jacob's eyes in the mirror as he rubbed his cheek.

"I'm okay," he said a little more loudly, spinning around on his chair to face Jacob and pulling his hand away. A bruise, already darkening from red to purple, marred his usually flawless pale skin from under his right eye to just below his cheekbone. "My dad is going to ask questions."

"I know," Jacob murmured, taking a step closer to Kurt and kneeling down in front of them, evening the height barrier so he could look in the smaller teen's eyes. He reached out a hand and ran the pads of his fingers gently over the developing bruise— made when Irina threw him to the floor, no doubt. He'd washed the blood from his nose away, and he'd combed his hair to make it presentable; it was still too messy for it to be normal, but he looked a little more composed than he had in the car.

Kurt shivered as Jacob touched his face, instinctively sucking in a breath between his teeth and leaning into the touch as his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord. "What are we going to tell him?" he asked quietly, repressing his natural instinct to cry.

Jacob considered the question, once again glad that his ability to lie on the spot was well-developed. A soft squeak from the staircase alerted him to Puck's eavesdropping; he didn't react, figuring Puck might as well have the same story they did anyway, just in case anyone asked him.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he pulled his hand away from Kurt's face to rest it on his knee. "Someone broke into your house, Kurt," he started slowly, the scene already playing out in his head like a slow-motion action movie, "They hit your dad over the head, and tried to steal the television. You woke up and ran upstairs, and the burglar ran off when they realised there was someone else in the house."

"Did I see their face?" Kurt inquired, pursing his lips a little. He hated lying to his father, but there was no way Burt would ever believe the truth, not unless he saw it for himself. He didn't want to put his father in danger, anyway; he had a feeling that this new world he was experiencing was far bigger than he could have ever dreamed.

"No, but it was a man. And he was bigger than you, so you backed up and accidently fell down the stairs. You hurt your shoulder grabbing for the railing. You must have face-planted into the floor."

Kurt rubbed his cheek, wincing a little. "And then I called you and Puck?"

"Yes. Puck drove your father to the hospital while you and I cleaned up the mess he made. He came back and helped us out, and we went to the hospital afterward to see him. The end."

"Why didn't we call the cops?" Puck's voice piped up from where he was sitting halfway down the stairs, startling Kurt enough to make him jump visibly. It was a good question, one all three boys pondered for a moment before Puck groaned, obviously bored. "Let's just say we didn't think it was a big deal, okay? The guy didn't take anything, and everyone is going to be fine. You didn't see his face anyway, remember?"

Kurt nodded mutely, turning back to his mirror and readjusting his bangs. "Normally, I'd cover this up with foundation—" He gestured to the bruise unnecessarily. "—but I think at this point, it would just make it look worse, and my dad is really good at seeing through that kind of deceit, anyway."

"It really wasn't your fault you fell down the stairs, darling," Jacob said facetiously, offering Kurt a hand to help him stand up.

"Yeah," Puck agreed quickly with a smirk on his face, "You can't help it if you're clumsy and graceless."

"Ha ha," Kurt said, sending a glare in Puck's direction as he took his boyfriend's offered hand and pulled himself to his feet. He had changed out of his ruined pyjamas and into a plain white t-shirt that was usually saved to be worn under his coveralls when he worked in the garage because it was comfortable, and the one pair of jeans he owned that weren't skin tight. The change wasn't particularly _subtle_; Puck looked oddly weirded out seeing Kurt in anything less than spectacularly designed.

Kurt paused, looking between Puck and Jacob with an eyebrow raised, as if only just now seeing them for the first time. "Why did you switch clothes?" he asked one eyebrow hidden beneath his hairline as he put his hand on his hips and looked at them questioningly.

"We figured, since Jake's gonna go into the hospital with you, wearing bloody overalls is probably not a good idea," Puck explained quickly, cutting of Jacob's similar answer.

Kurt rolled his eyes, looking towards Jacob. "You can't go into a hospital shirtless, stupid," he groaned, crossing the basement and opening a drawer of a dresser placed inconspicuously in the corner. "Here," he added, pulling out a large black ACDC t-shirt and throwing it at Jacob, "Wear this."

It fit Jacob snugly, even if it was a little too tight in the shoulders, and he suspected it used to be Burt's and had been handed down to his son. Kurt used it to sleep in when he wasn't feeling well; it nearly fell to his knees when he wore it.

"Can we go now? It's morning already; my dad might have woken up, and I don't want him to freak out when I'm not there."

The trio were on the way to the hospital only minutes later, with Puck driving once again and Kurt sitting stiffly in the back seat while Jacob gently rubbed his arm, trying to be reassuring. This time, Puck used the visitor's parking like he was supposed to instead of commandeering the ambulance lane, and they had quite a walk to the front doors.

Kurt was limping slightly, though not enough to be overly conspicuous, and he kept both arms wrapped around himself. It wasn't for warmth— the day had begun surprisingly warm and sunny for Ohio, unlike its dreary predecessor, a fact that normally would have drawn Kurt into high spirits. He was the kind of person whose moods are influenced by the weather, his outlook rising and falling with the barometer; but that day the weather was irrelevant. He looked the opposite of cheerful, his face closed off of all emotions as they trudged through the parking lot together. The night before hadn't been dark and stormy, either, though it should have been; but that's the weather for you, rarely reflecting the tone of a story like in fiction.

When they reached the main building, Kurt went to the first information desk he saw and asked to see his father, feeding them his and his father's names and tapping his impatient fingers on the side of the desk while the nurse entered the information into the computer. Jacob kept his good hand on Kurt's lower back the whole time, trying to bring comfort to him even though he kept saying he was fine.

"He's in ward twelve on the third floor, recovering from a type-A concussion. He's due to be released later this morning," the nurse said cheerfully, waving as they left hurriedly, heading for the row of elevators across the hall.

Puck took that as his cue to leave, smiling suggestively at the nurse and hurrying over to the other two.

"Here," he said, pulling Kurt's car keys from his pocket and pressing them into Kurt's hand. Kurt shoved them into his own pocket as the elevator arrived, nodding to Puck curtly before boarding, grabbing Jacob's hand to pull him on as well.

Puck just shrugged, turned around and shuffled to the exit, side-stepping an old man in a wheelchair in order to do so. If anyone was wondering why he was wearing blood splattered overalls, no one mentioned anything. He walked back to his house to change into his own clothes, the rough material of the overalls already starting to chafe the insides of his thighs and the backs of his knees.

* * *

After Kurt and Jacob located ward twelve, they spent a good ten minutes looking for Kurt's dad. When they located his bed, tucked away behind a curtain at the far end of the large room, the doctor assigned to him was there checking his chart.

"Excuse me," Kurt said politely to get the doctor's attention. He turned to look at them, giving the two teenagers a once-over before settling his gaze on Kurt, ignoring Jacob's presence.

"Are you Kurt Hummel?" he asked, and Kurt nodded mutely. The doctor extended his hand, offering it for Kurt to shake. "I'm Dr. Powell, the physician assigned to your father. He was asking for you, earlier."

Kurt's face fell a little, his frown become more evident and a worry crease forming between his eyebrows. "I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner, after cleaning up the mess, I must have fallen asleep—"

"You did. We didn't want to wake you," Jake whispered, embellishing the story they'd come up with a little to account for the time lost.

"That's quite alright," Dr. Powell amended, waving off their comments with one hand while holding Burt's chart in the other. "He's been asleep most of the time you were gone, anyway. We gave him Gravol for the nausea that comes along with a concussion, and the dose made him drowsy; he's been out like a light. Won't even notice you weren't there this whole time."

Kurt sighed, a grateful look in his eyes. "And he's going to be okay?"

The doctor nodded, hooking the chart back onto its place at the end of Burt's bed. "Absolutely. The concussion he suffered wasn't too serious, and it's unlikely to have lasting repercussions after the next two weeks or so. Until then, he should make sure to rest and try not to be near any heavy machinery, because while he's healing he will be consistently tired and have bouts of blurry vision, dizziness, nausea... the works."

"He'll have to take some time off work, then," Kurt concluded, mentally going over all the large pieces of machinery that the garage contained.

The doctor nodded sympathetically and said, "'Fraid so," before pushing his glasses up his nose. "You can stay with him, but alert a nurse when he wakes. A few more tests to make sure he's healing properly, and we should be able to send him home with you."

Kurt nodded, moving to pull back the curtain that separated him from his father. Dr. Powell put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, causing Kurt to wince slightly.

"However, since his injury looks like it was the result of an assault, you and your father will have to give a statement." He paused, looking up at Jacob and examining him, as though he thought _he _might be the one responsible for Burt's injuries. "If you don't mind my asking," he continued, looking back at Kurt, "What happened? He was unconscious when he arrived, and the kid who brought him in was useless."

Jacob snickered at the mention of Puck, but closed his mouth at the glare the doctor shot him. Kurt recounted their fabricated story quickly; how he must have left the door unlocked, how the guy was three times his size, how he fell down the stairs and the guy took off.

"I didn't see his face, and it didn't even occur to me to call the police," he finished, scrubbing a hand across his face as if to ward off tears, "I am such an _idiot._"

"You did the right thing by bringing your father here," Dr. Powell said, comforting the distraught teen with another brisk pat on the shoulder (the tears were much more real after that). "Page the nurse when he wakes up."

Kurt waited until the doctor was out of sight before he scowled, rubbing his injured shoulder gingerly. He was a great actor when he wanted to be; the moment Dr. Powell was gone, so were the fake tears and heartbroken expression.

"Ow," he grumbled as he pulled back the curtain and stepped into the cramped space allotted to his father's bed, sitting down on the lone chair and scooting forward so he could reach his father's hand. Jacob stood by a little awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.

"Do you want me to—" He was going to say something like '_go and leave you two alone_,' but Kurt took it another way as he cut him off.

"Yeah. There's got to be another chair around here for you, somewhere."

Jacob went on a search for another chair, and ended up asking a nurse to get him one before hurrying back with it. He needn't have worried about being swift; the pair sat with the unconscious Mr. Hummel for a good two hours before anything happened, and even then all that happened was Puck returning in his regular clothes with Jacob's cell phone and three coffees in tow.

"Did you call Finn's mom yet?" was one of the first things he asked, his voice hushed so as not to wake up the patients who were resting, leaning up against the wall beside Mr. Hummel's bed. Kurt paled, shaking his head.

"I hadn't even thought about Carole," he groaned, digging around in his pockets in search of his phone, but only finding his keys. Jacob offered him the cell phone Bella had bought him, and Kurt took it gratefully, numbly dialling the memorised number. He put the phone to his ear and stood, pulling back the curtain and walking out to give himself relative privacy to tell Carole the story.

"Are you okay?" Puck asked, temporarily stealing Kurt's chair to sit next to Jacob. Jake shrugged, using the back of his good hand to wipe the thin layer of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead.

"Not really," he replied in a whisper, keeping his voice low so Kurt wouldn't overhear.

"Your hand?" When Jacob nodded at Puck's inquiry, he let out a low whistle. "How much does it hurt?"

"A lot more than I'm letting on," Jake confided in him quietly, keeping an ear tuned to the distant sound of Kurt talking to his step-mother-to-be, "I don't want Kurt to worry, but I think this healing process is going to be... a _lot_ worse than Seth told me it was. My whole arm was numb at first, but now it just... _aches_." He winced, using his good hand to rub the skin above the bandage, the inside of which felt slick with blood. "I don't want to worry Kurt."

"You shouldn't be here," Puck said, poking him in the chest lightly, "What if part of... your _injury_ has side effects? Like spontaneous shifting?"

"As soon as we take Kurt's dad home, I'll lock myself in your room to wait out the agony I'm sure is approaching." Jacob flexed his gauze-wrapped hand experimentally, sucking in a breath between his teeth and suppressing a wince. It was steadily growing more painful, but he could be a good actor, too.

"Dude, maybe you should call Carlisle—"

Kurt chose that moment to duck back behind the curtain, causing Puck to stop midsentence. He stood and offered Kurt his seat back, which he gratefully sunk into; it seemed he was grateful of a lot of things as of late.

"Carole is on her way here," he announced, handing Jacob back his phone and leaning back in the hard plastic chair. "She was really upset I hadn't notified her sooner, but she'll be here soon."

Puck glanced at his watch, eyebrows shooting up. "It's not even seven yet. Isn't that a little early for her to be up?"

Kurt's ears turned red. "Apparently, I woke her up. Finn is probably still asleep, though; he can sleep through just about anything."

"The kid's got a thick skull," a groggy voice from behind them said, and all three boys jumped and looked at Burt, who was blinking sleep away from his eyes. He yawned, using his arms to push himself into a sitting position on the bed.

"Dad! How are you feeling?" Kurt asked quickly, standing up and at his father's side in an instant, ready to press the call button on command.

"Tired. How long was I out?" Burt rubbed at his eyes again, screwing his fists into the sockets forcefully.

"I don't know. We only got here a few hours ago." Kurt looked towards Jacob and said, "Can you fetch someone? The doctor said we needed to alert them when he woke up."

Jake nodded, getting up from his chair and ducking around the curtain in search of medical personnel.

Burt blinked at Puck, who hadn't moved from his spot against the wall. "Puckerman?" he asked, his eyebrows coming together in the middle in confusion, "What're you doing here?"

"I had to drive them here," was his simple answer, accompanied with a shrug. "I wouldn't let Kurt drive 'cause of his shoulder."

Burt's head whipped around to stare at his son, ignoring the bout of dizziness the action caused. "What happened to your shoulder? Are you alright?"

For this father's benefit, Kurt put on a wonderful show; the blush and embarrassed expression, the little mortified giggle as he explained how he _sort of_ fell down the basement stairs. When he got to the part about face-planting into the floor, Burt's gaze went from sympathetic to trying to fend off laughter— he had no trouble at all believing his son's story.

Jacob returned with Dr. Powell shortly thereafter; Jacob had found him while he was doing his rounds again to check on his patients. He looked into Burt's eyes with a little medical flashlight and checked his vitals, declaring him on the mend. He went through all the warnings he had with Kurt about the repercussions of a concussion— headaches, blurry vision, dizziness, nausea.

When a police officer arrived to take their statements, Kurt had to go through the entire story again, the lie coming easily to him. Puck and Jacob collaborated his story from the time that they arrived to find he and his father injured and the house a mess.

As much as Kurt hated lying to his father, and he felt rather ill when recounting events to the police officer, he knew that he had to keep Jacob's secret. And while he loved his dad more than anything, he would never betray Jacob's confidence.


	28. Morning

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_School has started up, and my schedule is fantastic— if a little hectic. Updates will be slow, if at all, for a while; I'm already loaded down with homework. First semester I've got English, French, Math, Science, & MSIP and next semester I've got Drama, History, Business, Dance, & MSIP, so hopefully I'll have a lot more free time next semester._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**28: Morning**

Carole drove Burt home once he was signed out of the hospital, and Puck was once again entrusted with the Navigator's keys to drive Kurt and Jacob back to the Hummel residence. It was almost noon when they finally got there, and the lengthy police interviews and many statements to sign were to blame for it.

Kurt was exhausted; all he wanted to do was crash in his own bed and sleep off the headache he was developing from delivering the same lies over and over again, explaining every fabricated detail _in detail_ what felt like dozens of times in total. Burt was in the living room already when Kurt and Jacob arrived, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with the TV on low. Carole was in the kitchen fixing him some soup, her humming barely audible over the news coverage of a house fire in Colorado.

Kurt had dragged Jacob into the house with him, the grip on his good hand tight around his fingers. Puck had already left, gone home to go back to bed. Jacob was planning on doing the same, and just hoped that his injury wouldn't take too long to heal. His whole arm felt like was on fire, and the inside of the bandage Kurt had put on him was slick with blood, the bite still leaking and open and new.

"Dad? Can Jacob stay for a while?" Kurt asked meekly, and Burt looked up from the TV before giving a nod.

"Sure. Stay as long as you want, Jake," he sighed, reaching out and picking up the remote to change the channel to something worth watching. He didn't even tell them to leave the door open as they headed toward the basement, he was so out of it. Pain killers, Jacob surmised.

Jacob sighed, wishing he had refused as Kurt dragged him down the stairs. He didn't want to worry Kurt, didn't want to tell him he was in pain, but the shell-shocked look Kurt was supporting drove him to stay, anyway. He could stay for a little while, just until Kurt felt comfortable again, and then he would go home and lock himself in Puck's bedroom.

There was an odd silence in the poorly-lit basement as Kurt led him to the couch. They hadn't been alone together in what felt like years, and there was this sudden gaping hole between them that Jacob couldn't explain. Kurt sat down on the pristine white sofa, letting go of his boyfriend's hand and smoothing down his jeans, pushing out imaginary wrinkles. It was a habit of stress, an attempt to break the ice for many an awkward conversation.

"Jacob," he said, and Jacob sat down next to him, because the sound of his voice told him that whatever Kurt was hoping to talk privately about, it wasn't going to be good news. "I'm sort of overwhelmed." It was an understatement, and they both knew it. Kurt's brain had finally caught up to his body, and all the impossibilities that had suddenly become possible were driving his thoughts in a million different directions.

"I'm sorry this was all sprung on you so fast," Jacob apologised, wishing, not for the first time, that he'd told Kurt sooner, prepared him for what had happened. Kurt shook his head, biting down on his lip.

"It's not your fault that a vampire... kidnapped me." He seemed to have trouble saying it, like making it vocal made it real.

"I should have been able to protect you," Jacob mumbled, sounding as guilty as he felt.

"You did," Kurt assured him, looking him straight in the eyes for the first time since leaving the hospital, "You _saved _me, Jacob, and I'm not about to forget that fact." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in an odd imitation of his father's nervous tick. "I just..."

Kurt paused, and Jacob could feel the blood pounding in his ears as he waited for more. Was this it? The possibility of Kurt dumping him hadn't occurred to him until just now, but it suddenly took purchase in the forefront of his mind. Had Kurt decided that loving him wasn't enough to put up with the supernatural world he had been involuntarily thrust into?

"I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me before it became a necessity to," was what Kurt finally said, and it took a moment for the words to sink in. Whatever Jacob had been expecting, it hadn't been anywhere close to _that_. Kurt looked away, his eyes sad and downcast as he held his hands loosely in his lap.

"Oh, _Kurt_," Jacob groaned, reaching out to grab Kurt's hands and hold them, his one hand easily covering both of Kurt's dainty ones. "It's not like that at all. I wanted to tell you, I just didn't want to scare you off. I didn't want you to think I was a... a monster, or something. It was eating me alive, knowing I was hiding this from you. But I _never_ assumed you wouldn't keep my secret. I trust you."

Kurt frowned, but it wasn't because he was unsatisfied with the answer he had been given. "Why would I think you were a monster?" he asked quietly, still frowning as he looked back at Jacob, his eyes watering a little. "I don't think I could ever think of you as anything less than my hero, Jake. Especially now."

He seemed vehement, for someone so tired, his eyelids trying to droop while he stubbornly held them open, looking at Jacob with a strange intensity, as though willing him to believe it. There was something really, really drawing about that intensity, that feeling, and Jacob found himself leaning closer and pressing his lips to Kurt's before he could even form a coherent thought. Kurt kissed him back, his hands unfolding from his lap and wrap around Jacob's neck, pulling him closer.

They pulled apart and stared at each other for a moment, the connection between them like electricity jumping from one to the other. Then Kurt yawned, and the moment was broken. Jacob laughed, standing up and pulling Kurt to his feet along with him.

"You need to sleep," Jacob reminded him, and Kurt nodded, the movement making his head feel too heavy for his body.

"Yeah," he agreed, walking over to his dresser and pulling out a clean pair of pyjamas. He glanced at Jacob, biting his lip. "I feel kind of... icky. Will you wait here while I take a quick shower? I won't be long— promise."

Jacob nodded, sinking back down onto the couch as Kurt scurried into the bathroom, shutting the door loudly behind him, the sound of water running starting up almost immediately afterward. Jacob sat there for a long moment before it occurred to him that he should call Bella, but once it did, he pulled out his cell phone and held down her speed-dial button in an instant.

Bella quietly listened as quickly he explained the night's strange events and only interrupted to ask the odd question ("_Did Irina say _how_ her sisters resurrected her?_" "_How did Kurt react?_" "_You made sure to burn_ all _the pieces, right?_"). She handed the phone off to Carlisle when he came to the part about his bite, and he quietly asked him how Seth had handled the injury. Carlisle's words were not at all reassuring.

"_It's going to hurt_," the doctor explained, "_And it's going to take a while to heal. The first night after Seth was bitten he was in bed with a fever of almost a hundred and twenty-five, burning off the venom. The wound will need to irrigate, so keep it clean. You should probably have Puckerman constantly monitor your condition after the first twenty-four hours, because that's when it really all came to a head for Seth— and tell him not to try to cool you off, because the fever is going to be what kills off the venom, what will stop you from becoming one of us._"

Jacob shook his head, not liking what he was hearing at all. "So I have twenty-four hours from when I was bitten before it gets... really bad?" he asked, making sure, because it sure as hell already felt 'really bad.' Any numbness that had been masking the pain before was now gone, leaving trails of agony to periodically race from his palm up to his shoulder and back down again like electrical shocks.

"_Yes. And then it will start to slowly calm down from there, but it might take weeks for the actual bite itself to heal_," Carlisle agreed.

"And I won't just spontaneously shift into wolf form?" Jacob continued, Puck's words from earlier echoing at the back of his mind.

"_No. As far as I could tell, Seth couldn't shift at all until the bite was fully healed._"

He sighed with relief at Carlisle's reassuring words. "So I can't accidently hurt Kurt if I stick around for a while. Okay, that's good. Really good."

"_Jacob, I don't recommend that you—_"

The sound of rushing water from the bathroom stopped, and Jacob smiled. "Thanks Carlisle, you're the best," he said, interrupting Carlisle's advice.

"_Jacob—_"

Jacob cut off the call, hanging up on the doctor and quickly turning his phone off so he couldn't be called back. He shoved the small device into his pocket as Kurt came out of the bathroom, dressed in the pyjamas he had brought in with him, and his hair slicked back with water.

"Who was that?" Kurt asked, yawning again as he sat down on the couch next to his boyfriend tiredly.

"Nobody. Come on, you look exhausted. Let's get you to bed, darling."

Kurt groggily mumbled something to the affirmative, standing and stumbling over to his sleeping area. The pristinely white sheets were mussed from the struggle he had put up against Irina taking him. Kurt tried to smooth them down, running his hands over the silk to straighten it, his hands shaking a little as he thought about what exactly had occurred since the last time he had been lying in this bed.

Jacob pulled back the sheet for him, practically pushing Kurt into the bed before pushing his bangs off his forehead, a comforting gesture. Kurt settled back onto the familiar mattress, relaxing as Jacob carefully tucked the sheets around him and leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of Kurt's head. He turned to leave, expecting Kurt to want his privacy, but Kurt's small hand jerked out from beneath the sheet and caught his bicep before he got even a step away from the bed.

"Wait," he said, his voice more distressed than he would have liked. Jacob stopped and turned back to him, catching the hand on his arm and holding it gently. "Don't go," Kurt pleaded, his lip trembling ever-so-slightly in a way that made Jacob melt.

"Kurt—" he started, unsure of what he was supposed to say.

"Stay with me? Just for a little while?" Kurt asked, eyes big and blue and _pleading_. Then, more quietly, "_I'm scared,_" as if he were afraid to admit it. Jacob sighed, his resolve to leave Kurt as soon as he was settled crumbling into little pieces.

"Alright," he agreed, "But just for a little while, okay?"

Kurt nodded a little too eagerly, moving over in his bed to make room for Jacob beside him. Jacob slowly sunk down next to Kurt's little body, once again noticing the huge size difference; Kurt was so small, so fragile. The smaller teen instinctively curled up against Jacob's chest, and Jake put an arm around him to hold him there. They fit together perfectly, as cliché as that sounds, as Jacob held his imprintee against him protectively.

A thin beam of sunlight filtered through a gap in the curtains of Kurt's small window, casting strange shadows on the walls. Kurt closed his eyes and snuggled up against the warmth of Jacob's chest, sighing contently, finally safe from the monsters who wanted to hurt him.

Jacob through his other arm, the injured one, across Kurt's hip, leaving his bandaged hand hanging beside Kurt's stomach so it didn't touch anything. The sharp shooting pain he had been experiencing had dulled to an ignorable ache, which he was thankful for; it didn't take too much work to keep a look of pain off his face, to protect Kurt from the horror he would undoubtedly be going through in less than a day.

Kurt's breathing slowly evened out, but Jacob didn't disentangle himself from him even when he knew he was asleep. The constant rise and fall of Kurt's chest was mesmerising, the little noises he made in his sleep too adorable not to stay and listen to. It might have been half an hour into his sleep that Kurt froze up, his muscles clenching as he whimpered and cringed away from Jacob's body. Jacob sighed, smoothing back his hair and pressing another kiss to his temple.

"It's okay, darling, I'm here," he said quietly, tightening his grip around the countertenor more securely. "It's alright. I've got you." Kurt relaxed, his breathing evening out once more as Jacob's reassuring words washed over him, bringing peace to the nightmare he had been experiencing.

After that, Jacob couldn't bring himself to leave. He didn't want Kurt to suffer any more pain because of him, because of what he was; sticking around to protect him from his dreams was the least he could do. He relaxed a little, his stiff muscles unwinding as he let himself lie there, listening to Kurt's contented sleep noises.

Maybe he closed his eyes after a while, exhaustion from the night finally overtaking him. He couldn't remember.


	29. Silent Hours

Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt.

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**29: Silent Hours**

The sound of breaking glass and the smell of dust and mildew filled the darkness, all the empty space swirling around him like a thousand nightmares. Kurt walked onward, his feet unsure as they hit ground he could not see, his arms outstretched as if searching for something. He heard the wuffle of a wolf's breath and his heart just out leapt out of his chest; "Jacob? Is that you?"

The darkness didn't answer him.

A bead of sweat ran down the back of his neck and he swiped at it impatiently with his sleeve. It was too hot in this place, the pads of his bare toes scorching with every step forward. The ground had gone from black and cold like polished glass to hot and slippery like molten lava. It even glowed now with a dim, red light that made the darkness around him seem somehow more severe.

Waves of heat radiated from the slippery floor as Kurt began to run, calling out the name of his boyfriend desperately. It was too hot, _far_ too hot, and his body was slick with sweat, his hair dripping with it. The sound of dripping blood and sweat and tears and the heat overwhelmed everything else, drowning out his pitiful cries for help.

He was so heavy, and too hot, and he collapsed finally, exhaustedly, onto the red-hot lava. He lay on his side, panting like a dog, and squeezed his eyes shut as the heat took over every other sense.

Kurt gasped and jolted awake when he heard a whimper close to his ear. It took his several seconds for him to come to terms with where he was— half underneath a heavy and extremely feverish body in his basement bedroom. Jacob whimpered again and Kurt quickly rolled himself over and leant up on his elbows, moving Jacob's arm off of him as he moved.

It was then that Kurt realised why his dream had been so messed up. The smell of blood was tangy in the air from where it had pooled onto Kurt's abdomen and soaked through his sheets while they had been asleep. Jacob's injured hand, the bandage now unrecognisable and completely drenched in silver-streaked crimson, was the one Kurt moved ever so gently as he manoeuvred out of bed.

His head was pounding, and it was hard to think straight, but Kurt at least had the sense to grab his cell phone off his bedside table. There was a moment where his thumb hovered over the 9, prepared to dial 911 to get an ambulance there right away. It didn't take him longer than that to realise that they would have no idea what to do with his boyfriend, who chose then to let out another ragged whimper as his good hand clenched in the sheets.

"Shh, it's okay," Kurt said soothingly, placing a hand on the sweaty skin of Jacob's forehead. His skin was scorching to the touch, too hot to be human. Kurt yanked his hand back and frantically scrolled through his contacts until he came to _Imbecileasaurus_, the name he had given Puck when the Glee Club had exchanged numbers. His fingers throbbed, and Kurt wondered if it was possible to actually be _burned_ by someone's fever.

Puck took far too long to answer, seven rings while Kurt impatiently rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Puck's sleepy, "_Hullo?_" did nothing to calm his nerves or ease the tension that gave him an uncomfortable crick in his neck and shoulders.

"Jacob's hot," Kurt said instantly, biting down on his lip.

A long, deep groan filtered through the phone. "_You called me in the middle of the night to tell me that? Geez, Hummel, you are such a—_"

"No, no. He's _hot_, Puck. Not— he has a _fever_, you moron. I don't know what to do. What am I supposed to do?" Kurt sounded frantic even to his own ears, the desperation and exhaustion consuming all else. He gently rubbed his burned fingers against the front of his pyjamas, only to pull them away when they touch the sticky blood on them.

"_Uh..._" There was a shuffling sound in the phone, and Kurt nervously watched as Jacob restlessly grappled with his bed sheets. "_Gimme a few minutes. I'll be right there, okay? And call Carlisle. He'll know what to do._"

"Carlisle? Who's Carlisle? Puck!" He felt close to hysterics; what was wrong with Jacob? Was he going to be okay? He'd never been in this kind of situation before, never had to care for someone with anything more serious than the flu.

"_He's a doctor, okay? One who knows about this stuff. His number'll be programmed into Jake's phone. Might be under 'Cullen,' though._"

Kurt held his cell phone to his ear with his shoulder, despite its protest, and carefully extracted Jacob's phone from his pants' pocket. The fabric was hot to the touch, but not as unbearably so as Jacob's bare skin. Kurt scrolled through the contacts until he found the number he was looking for, '_Carlisle Cell._' He pressed the green phone button without hesitation. Now was _not_ the time to be shy about calling someone he'd never met before.

"I'm calling him now," Kurt said into his own cell phone, and Puck hung up afterwards without a goodbye. Not that Kurt was expecting one. He put down that phone and held the other to his ear in favour of it.

"_Jake?_" came the clear, cold voice of Dr. Cullen on the other end. Kurt sucked in a breath between his teeth, the hairs on the back of his neck rising uncomfortably. The doctor's voice had the same odd quality to it that Irina's had had. It was something creepy that Kurt just couldn't put his finger on.

"No. My name is Kurt—"

"_I know who you are._" Kurt froze mid-sentence, unsure what he was supposed to say. "_You are Jacob's imprintee. I assume he didn't follow my advice and held a sleepover despite my protests?_"

"I— yeah, I guess. And now he's—"

"_Bleeding from the wound on his palm. Kurt, do not panic. The bite needs to irrigate in order for it to heal. It's totally normal, and not anything you need to worry about._" Kurt sighed in relief, and was about to ask about the fever when the doctor began to speak again. "_How high is his fever?_"

"I— I don't know," Kurt admitted quietly. "Should I try to take it? I don't know if I can touch him. My hand is actually still throbbing from when I tried. It actually burned me."

The sigh resulting from this information crackled through the long-distance call. "_Don't touch him, then. I suggest you stay away from him, actually. He's likely to start flailing about wildly any time now, and you don't want to be standing in the general vicinity when he does_."

Kurt took a few steps backward, his eyes trained on the bed. Jacob had stopped moving, for the most part, but Kurt didn't trust that as much as he trusted the doctor's voice. Puck had said he knew about these things, and it made sense to trust him right now.

"_Moving him somewhere more remote than your basement will probably be beneficial_."

"Puck's on his way over," Kurt mumbled, into the phone, "What should I do until he gets here? Should I... should I try to cool him down?"

"_No. His body is trying to burn off the venom in his system. He has to burn it off it order to recover, and that means _literally_ burning it off. His temperature is going to steadily increase until the venom starts to boil. I have no way of knowing how hot he'll need to get, but I suggest you take him somewhere isolated to do it. Seth reached a hundred and twenty five degrees while we were able to monitor him, but that may be a low estimation._"

Kurt swallowed past the lump forming in his throat, blinking away the sleep in his eyes and trying to focus. "A fever that high isn't possible," he countered, because the rational part of his brain was screaming that everything here was wrong. A person would suffer brain damage if a fever reached a hundred and eight degrees, and even that was rare.

"_And vampires and Quileute Wolves don't exist,_" Carlisle countered facetiously, his voice still vacantly calm. "_Welcome to the real world, Kurt Hummel._"

* * *

Puck eyed the Hummel house warily, already regretting hanging up on Kurt so quickly. He should have asked Kurt to unlock the front door for him, since he didn't want to give Mr. Hummel a heart attack by breaking in again.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Puck trotted swiftly around to the side of the house. If his memory served, the little window that led to Kurt's basement bedroom was on the left side. He located it fairly easily and gave it a few abrupt raps with his knuckles. He wasn't surprised that Kurt was wide-eyed with apparent fear as he approached the window; the kid had been through a lot in the last couple of days, after all. Puck smirked when Kurt narrowed his eyes and shoved the small window open.

"Is there something wrong with the front door, or do you just enjoy scaring me half to death?" Kurt hissed quietly with a scowl. Puck quickly manoeuvred his way into the basement through the small opened, contorting his body in order to fit his shoulders through the tight space.

"I assumed," he said, still smirking as he closed the window behind him, "That it would be locked, and your dad might shoot me if I tried to break it. Kurt's scowl faded as he considered this, and Puck snorted.

"Oh." Kurt looked toward the bed and bit his lip. "Dr. Cullen said not to cool him off. And that we should move him somewhere... isolated."

Puck jerked his head in a single nod and approached his sleeping relative quickly. "Come on, big guy," he groaned as he pulled Jacob's relatively motionless body into a sitting position and then heaved him over his broad shoulder. Puck smiled warily at Kurt, who hovered in the doorway worriedly. "You go up and hold the door open," he directed. "I parked up the street."

Kurt nodded jerkily and darted up the stairs like a frightened mouse while Puck followed him more slowly, lugging Jacob's dead weight over his shoulder. The Alpha's toes just barely dragged along the floor and bumped the edge of each step as Puck carried him up the stairs, aware of Jacob's high fever by the way the heat leached into the taut muscle of his back.

Kurt held the door at the top of the stairs open for them and then closed it quietly once they had cleared it. He kept sending nervous glances over his shoulder toward the other staircase as he moved to unlock the front door, as though just waiting for a noise to wake Burt and Carole, who had long since gone to bed.

But the trio was silent as they left the muted house, Kurt in his pyjamas and slippers, Puck naked from the waist up, and Jacob unconscious and occasionally twitching. Once they were out of earshot of the front door and making their way down the Hummel's driveway, Puck shifted Jacob a little higher across his back and broke the silence.

"What else did Carlisle tell you?" he asked quietly, as though paranoid of waking the occupants of the sleepy little houses they passed on the way to Puck's truck.

Kurt was chewing his lip nervously, but stopped to consider the question. "That he might start flailing around wildly soon," he confessed, casting an apprehensive glance at Jacob's still-limp body. "And that the bite needs to irrigate to... get the venom out." The words sounded strange coming from his mouth, and Kurt felt strangely out of place as they reached the old pickup.

Kurt opened the back of the truck bed and stood back as Puck heaved Jacob into it. He swung out wildly with his good arm and clipped Puck in the stomach, knocking him to the asphalt, but Puck took it in stride as he jumped right back up and grabbed the moving limb, which went limp again in his hands moments later.

Kurt got into the passenger's seat as Puck locked up the back and then walked around and got into the driver's seat. The truck sprang to live with a violent cough when he turned the key, and jolted forward with a jerk. Kurt wondered idly if Puck would let him look at the old vehicle once this was all over. It sounded as though it had a suspension problem.

The drive was silent, except for the occasional _bang_ from the bed of the truck whenever they hit a bump of Jacob struck out again. Kurt winced every single time, his eyes wide and his movements skittish as Puck drove to Reservoir Road, where he knew the forest would swallow any sounds that Jacob was bound to start making.

When Puck pulled into a parking space in front of the cemetery, Kurt was jolted out of his reverie. "Why are we here?" he demanded as Puck killed the engine.

"The woods are large, and remote," he replied with a one-shouldered shrug.

Kurt stared past the rows of graves where his mother was buried and pondered the dense mass of trees as Puck got out of the car and walked around to the back. They were on the outskirts of Lima, and Kurt remembered how he had found it odd that Jacob was around when he was visiting his mother's grave just weeks ago. Lima's citizens had told stories for generations about the ghosts and ghouls and _werewolves_ that lived beyond those trees that marked the edge of the city. When Kurt was growing up, he believed them for only a short time before he figured that they were just childhood fairy tales, perhaps introduced to encourage little ones to stay out of the forest. Now Kurt thought that maybe those stories had once been true, warped through time and mistelling; after all, his boyfriend was one of those beasts.

Puck was already dragging Jacob's body around the edge of the graveyard, ducking or jumping to avoid the occasional jerk of a limb, when Kurt finally got out of the truck and followed them. When Puck reached the edge of the trees and then disappeared into the gloom, Kurt began to job to catch up. They made enough noise as they thrashed through the thicket of trees that Kurt was able to follow them easily, wary of low-hanging branches and fallen logs that blocked his way.

The creepers and underbrush thinned almost suddenly, so that Kurt was surprised when he stumbled into a dark clearing in the woods. Puck had dropped Jacob in the middle of the cleared terrain and was watching his Alpha with dark eyes. To Kurt, both were just dark smudges against the lightening sky.

Kurt stood still, slightly breathless. Jacob flung out an arm violently, a deep groan escaping him as he clawed uselessly at the packed dirt with his good hand. In the forest floor deep gouges had already been scored, looking like the earth had been ravaged by vicious claws of a beast too large to imagine.

"This is where I transformed," Puck provided stoically, answering Kurt's silent question as he stared at the marred earth on which Jacob lay. Puck then looked to the sky, at the dimming stars and lightening cloudless canvas, a deep frown settling onto his face. "It's almost been twenty-four hours." That seemed significant.

Kurt swallowed past the lump in his throat and tore his eyes away from Puck's face to stare at the ground. He would never have believed it a month ago, if someone had told him he would be _here_ with _Noah Puckerman_ waiting for dawn so that his _boyfriend _could stop being in what looked like unimaginable agony.

Puck sat down against a tree at the edge of the clearing and drew his knees up, never once looking away from Jacob's body. Kurt carefully picked his way around the circle and then sat next to him, crossing his legs and tucking his slipper-wearing feet under his butt. They didn't say anything to each other; what was there to say?


	30. Drawn

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: So... Puck has a potty mouth. Come on, you know he does. And besides, it's not like I haven't used the f-word before in this story... I've used it several times, actually. Snuck it in there when you guys weren't looking. ;) _

_This is the last chapter before the epilogue— there will be one, I promise! Might take a while, though, considering it's Christmas and exams are sneaking up on me. But then it'll be over. Sadface._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**30: Drawn**

Jacob was dimly aware of what was happening. He knew he was being moved, logically, by the feel of wind on his face, cool and refreshing even as cold metal dug into his spine. He knew he was being carried when he could smell the distinctive musk of Quileute skin, when his breath was muffled by Puck's shoulder blade and then removed as he hit cool and motionless dirt. He could not open his eyes, could do nothing but breathe and be consumed by that task alone. His thoughts, muffled by the heat and the sound of his own heartbeat, flitted aimlessly about his skull, cloudy and indistinct. He was too hot, he knew, far too hot, but he could not ask to be cooled down. He could not remember how.

It could have been hours or days, he did not know, had no sense of time whatsoever. He knew nothing but pain, which spread outward from his hand up his arm and across his chest, and heat, his veins burning, scorching every inch of him with every rapid beat of his inhuman heart.

He let out a howl, his breath stolen from him as pain exploded behind his eyes, so much worse than anything he had ever experienced before. He thrashed wildly, unable to do anything but that, trying to somehow rid himself of the unspeakable agony that pulsed through him. Suddenly there was a weight on his chest, holding him down— Jacob reached up blindly with his injured hand, grabbed onto flesh and yanked.

* * *

Puck howled inhumanly and grasped his left arm in his right hand as he tumbled to the packed earth floor. His shoulder stuck up strangely to the side of his head, pulled from his socket by the sheer force of Jacob's pull. Kurt's eyes were wide as he stood back against a tree to Puck's left, his hand pressed tightly to his mouth to cover a silent scream. There was a moment of silent gasping for breath as Puck's eyes flashed with anger, and then he pulled downward on his injured arm, the dislodged joint popping back into place with a sickening sound.

"Sonovabitch," he gasped, slamming his eyes shut as the pain sparked, and then began to ebb away until it was just a dull ache.

Jacob continued to thrash wildly about the other side of the clearing, but stopped after his good arm hit the thick trunk of a tree with a nauseating _crack_ than made Kurt flinch almost violently. Puck, already recovered from the injury Jacob had caused him, flung himself at his now-motionless Alpha and grabbed the broken arm.

He straightened the bone and held it like that, against the ground as the already-too-hot skin flared with even more heat beneath his fingertips. The two Quileute boys panted in unison, and Jacob managed to slit open his eyes the smallest amount to look at his Beta hazily.

His pupils were blown wide, so that the circles of his eyes were pure black instead of the comforting amber they usually were; he grabbed onto Puck's bicep with his bitten hand, the bandage gone so that the wound leaked openly and spread silver-streaked blood over the taut muscle. He gulped desperately at the air, trying to say something, but Puck shook his head and continued to hold his arm to the ground as the bone set and slowly healed itself under his hand.

Kurt, his back still pressed flush against the tree, tried to slow his breathing. He had an absurd thought that maybe he should be singing, and then dismissed it— unlike Rachel, he did not have a song prepared for every unlikely situation he could find himself in. He had no idea what song he would even sing in this situation, or even if there was one that was appropriate. _Who would write a song about something like this?_ he mused. _People would think they were crazy._

He still wasn't sure _he_ wasn't crazy.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he sank slowly to the ground and sat back against the tree, no longer on high-alert like he had been moments ago. Jacob looked like he had stopped trying to tear his own limbs off, at least, and Kurt let himself relax for a moment. His whole body was tense with the anticipation and fear he couldn't help but have at this point, and he couldn't fully relax even a single muscle.

"Is he okay?" Kurt asked quietly, not even bothering to raise his voice above a breathless whisper. The early morning was quiet, like they three were the only ones who existed, and Puck had superhuman hearing even if it hadn't been.

"Dunno," Puck replied honestly, releasing the newly-healed arm from his grasp. It twitched, but did nothing more as Jacob closed his eyes again. "Jake, buddy, are you okay?"

Jacob hummed a little in response, just loud enough that Kurt could hear it on the other side of the clearing. His tense shoulders relaxed then, if only enough so he wasn't holding them tight up by his ears. He let out a little laugh that sounded more like a sob as he pulled his knees up to his chest and let his forehead rest against them, feeling more tired now than he had before falling asleep the afternoon before, as impossible as that was.

Puck pressed his fingers to Jacob's neck and splayed his other hand over his bare chest. "He's cooling off, I think," he said, the relief in his voice evident. "And his heart rate's gone down a little." He pulled back and sat on his haunches, watching his Alpha breathe steadily in and out. "You think it's over?"

Kurt laughed a little again, lifting his head from his knees and shrugging at Puck. "Who knows?" he chuckled. "It just seems to be one bad frigging thing after another." Puck snorted, and Kurt raised an eyebrow delicately. "What?"

"You said 'frigging,'" he chuckled, falling backwards to sit properly on the dirt. "I can't believe you just said 'frigging.' How old are we, five?" He snorted again, blissfully distracted.

"I don't see how the use of profanity would _help _us in this situation, or any situation, really—" Kurt countered, dropping his head forwards against his kneecaps once more to cover the gentle blush creeping up his neck.

"Jesus, Hummel. It's just a word. Say 'fuck.' Just _say_ it. It won't fucking kill you."

Kurt pulled his head up and glared at his former bully, not even bothering to come up with a scathing retort. "No."

"Come on," Puck grinned, sitting up and taking six long strides to cross the ovular clearing. He sat down beside Kurt and nudged him with his shoulder. "Just say it. I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

The two bickered for a good twenty minutes on the merits of swearing, just for the sake of something to do. It was too quiet in the solemn wood, as though that sad feeling one got from visiting the neighbouring graveyard had leached into the surrounding area, a melancholy disease. Their teasing lightened the mood, at least, until Puck suggested tickling Kurt until he swore— an idea Kurt vehemently refused.

"I am not here for your _amusement_, Puckerman," he groaned, finally sick of Puck's obnoxious taunting and stupid arguments. He scooted away from the warm body leaning in close to him and crossed his arms. "I'm here because my boyfriend is in pain and could be _dying_, not because you need someone to entertain your frivolous whims!"

"Mm not dying," Jacob groaned, rolling sideways and opening one eye to stare blearily at the ridiculous pair. It was definitely morning, then, and he closed his eyes again as the light made his pupils hurt. "How long was I out?"

He felt a cool hand on his forehead quite suddenly, and revelled in how good it felt to no longer be on fire. The rushing in his ears had stopped, and the all-consuming pain that had gone on for what seemed like days but couldn't have been more than a few hours had ebbed to a bearable dull ache.

"What, six or seven hours?" he heard Kurt ask just barely above him, where he hovered like Jacob's sisters used to when he was sick in his childhood.

"About," Puck answered tiredly.

"My dad's going to kill me."

"Just tell him the truth. Jacob felt sick so you called me to drive him home, and then we took care of him. Text him, so he can't hear you lying."

"If you hadn't noticed, this isn't exactly _home_, Puckerman. The state of our clothes clearly says that we've been running through a frigging _forest_—"

Puck snorted again, obviously about to make some kind of remark about the lack of cuss words in Kurt's vocabulary when Jacob opened his eyes again and gave each one an individual glare; "_Enough_ already," he said, exasperated. "C'mere."

Jacob lifted his hand and Kurt took it softly in both of his much smaller pale ones. He pulled gently so that Kurt moved closer and then tried to sit up so that they met in the middle. The end result was that he pressed a sloppy kiss to the corner of Kurt's mouth before lying back on his bed of dirt and dead leaves again, too exhausted to care that it was probably the most unromantic kiss he'd ever given.

Kurt reached out and smoothed back Jacob's fringe, the hair already pushing the length boundaries he'd set himself. It was shaggy across his forehead and matted with sweat and dirt, but Kurt brushed it back lovingly to keep it out of his boyfriend's eyes.

"Do you guys want me to leave or something? Because this is weird for me."

Kurt laughed and looked over his shoulder, where Puck was absently toeing the ground and looking anywhere but at them. "No," he said after a moment, turning back to look at Jacob before releasing his hand and guiding it to sit on his chest. "We should get him home to recuperate."

Puck nodded and approached them, eying Jacob warily. "You think you can walk to the truck?" he asked his prone relative, who opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow that answered the question for him. Kurt stood and took a step back.

"Alright," Puck groaned, grabbing Jacob under the arms and lifting him to his feet. Jacob swayed dangerously, and Puck quickly put himself under one of Jacob's arms to help support his weight. Together, the trio made their way shakily back to where Puck had parked.

* * *

On the ride home Kurt shot his dad a quick text about his whereabouts. He knew for certain that his dad's cell phone was on the coffee table in the living room and he wouldn't get the text until he got up, which might not be for hours— and he therefore phrased his message as though he were just leaving the house then instead of in the middle of the night. At least it was a reasonable hour, and it wasn't like his dad was going to know he lied.

It didn't stop him from feeling guilty about it.

After they'd successfully snuck Jacob back into the Puckerman household and the injured Alpha was comfortably situated on Puck's bed— he didn't mind, he wouldn't need it until night again anyway— Kurt turned to his former bully warily. "Puck, can you—"

Puck held his hands up and back out of the room. "I can take a hint," he said quietly as he reached the doorframe. "Just don't do anything freaky on my bed."

Jacob growled and grabbed a pillow to throw at his distant cousin as Puck laughed and closed the door behind him. Kurt took the makeshift weapon from his boyfriend and fluffed it, neatly tucking it under Jacob's head so that he could lie back comfortably again.

"You should be getting ready for school," Jacob said after a moment, reaching up to run his rough fingertips across the bruise on Kurt's cheek. It had darkened overnight, purple and painful along his cheekbone. Kurt took the wandering hand and held it carefully between his own, perching himself on the edge of the borrowed bed and holding Jacob's hand against his chest.

"I don't want to go. Not today," he said thickly, biting down on his lip. "I can't." He was embarrassed that there were tears in his eyes; he hadn't cried through all these horrific events, and _now_ he was tearing up?

Jacob tightened the loose grip he had around Kurt's fingers, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "You have to. Exams next week."

"Why should I care about exams? We could have _died_, Jake. You could have died—"

"I wasn't dying. I told you, we're immune to the ven—"

"You think that _matters_?" Kurt almost yelled, but caught himself before it came out and lowered his volume to a stern growl at the very bottom of his register. He swallowed thickly, scooting closer to Jacob on the bed. "You didn't tell me anything, and I wake up in the middle of the night with blood all over me."

A single tear rolled down Kurt's face, angry and unwelcome on his reddening cheek. "I didn't know what to think. I thought maybe you would die, and I don't know what I would've—" He choked then, and another tear fell. "I don't know what I would've done."

Jacob didn't interrupt, but pulled his hand free of Kurt's to wipe away the tears with a soft caress. Kurt closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, faltering on whatever he had planned to say while he sat waiting in the clearing. They sat motionless for a moment, like that, connected in the strangest way.

Kurt sniffled and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand and the trance was broken. A laugh escaped him almost madly, as he opened his eyes and pulled his boyfriend's hand off his cheek.

"I barely even know you," he said slowly, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "And I already don't know how I lived before you were around. It's embarrassing how much I already depend on you." He chuckled softly, shaking his head so that his bangs swished against his forehead. "You've made me fall for you after one date. I almost can't believe it."

Jacob smiled. "Kurt, you don't have to worry about living without me. Never, okay? I'm sticking around, darling."

Kurt blushed at the nickname, remembering how only days ago— _days ago!_— Jacob had first used the term of endearment. It felt like years, decades, even, had passed since that morning. So many things had changed since then.

Kurt scooted closer to his boyfriend and lay down beside him on Puck's mattress, staring up at the white ceiling thoughtfully. "Can you promise that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How can you promise something like that? Especially considering... what you are."

"What I _am_," Jacob countered, rolling onto his side so that he could look Kurt in the eyes. "Is a guy who _loves_ you, and will protect you, and can't do anything else. I've imprinted on you. I'll be around for as long as you want me. No matter what."

Kurt blinked back a fresh round of tears and held his breath as Jacob pressed a kiss to his temple. "I'm never going to _not _want you around," Kurt declared, moving around so he could lean his head against Jacob's broad chest. "You're like a magnet. I can't help but be drawn to you."

Jacob chuckled, and the sound reverberated pleasantly through Kurt's whole body from his ears to his toes. "Well, then, darling," he murmured affectionately into Kurt's hair, "I guess you're stuck with me forever."


	31. Epilogue

_Summary: Jacob needs to get as far away from Washington as he possibly can. He doesn't know where he's going, but he finds a very special someone when he gets there. Eventual Jacob/Kurt._

_A/N: For those of you sad to see this story go, I will say that I may be doing a sequel— not a multichapter fic, mind you, but a rather long one-shot about Kurt and Jacob's summer. It will probably be a fluff fest invaded by smut because my girlfriend has been begging me to write some M-rated stuff, so any of you interested in something like that should keep your eyes open for it in the New Year._

_Musical inspiration for this fic includes _Changes _by Three Doors Down, _Something You'll Never Find _by Bare Naked Ladies, _Lifeboats_ by Snow Patrol, _Cemeteries of London _by Coldplay and _Outside of You_ by Hilary Duff._

_Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Bon Solstice, Blessed Holidays, Happy New Year, et cetera to everyone; I hope you have a wonderful holiday season._

* * *

_**Imprint**_

* * *

**31: Epilogue**

They didn't go to school that day.

Mrs. Puckerman was kind enough to call them in sick so that they wouldn't have the skipped day on their records, and Kurt made sure to thank her before he went home, dressed as fashionably as he possibly could in some of the clothes that Puck had so recently outgrown. He managed to sneak into the basement to change before his dad saw him, and all was well again.

The bite on Jacob's hand became raw and scabbed over, and it hurt to do even the simplest of things. Puck stayed with him for days, heedless of upcoming exams— why did he need to study when he could pass them in his sleep?— and Kurt visited after school for as long as he could without making his father suspicious. Slowly but surely, life settled back down. Kurt studied diligently for his exams with Jacob when he was over, and Puck listened to music at his desk while he pretended to care about Geometry.

It was a week later that Puck and Jacob returned McKinley (the day before the first scheduled exams were to take place). Karofsky was back at school, but there were no lettermen jackets hanging around the dumpsters when the trio made the hike from the parking lot to the front doors.

"It's weird," Puck grumbled as they passed the dumpsters. "I've only been gone a couple of weeks, but... everything's different."

Kurt blinked, only now remembering that Puck hadn't been back to school since the Glee Club had been un-disbanded. He had been 'sick'— a story he now didn't even have to doubt anymore, as the truth had been explained to him— shortly thereafter, and then with Irina and everything else, he hadn't been back in three weeks, easily.

"It smells weird, and kinda gross."

"Yeah, high school stinks. Literally," Jacob laughed as Kurt wrinkled his nose. "You're lucky you can't smell that, Kurt. It's like teenage boy body odour times a thousand. I think I can smell the locker room from here."

The Quileute boys laughed and trotted obediently into the school just as the bell rang, Kurt placed almost protectively between them, despite the fact that he had been going to school for the past week just fine on his own. Karofsky was the ringleader of the bullies, and after he deemed it unsafe to go after Kurt, the other Neanderthals had followed like ducklings in a line.

Puck went to his first three periods as he normally would, listening to the usual exam-prep lessons and Q&As that were standard this time of year. Jacob generally sat with him, and they goofed around in the back of the class— it wasn't like the teachers really cared about them, anyway. Apparently, some children _did _need to be left behind.

* * *

By lunch, Puck was bored out of hismind. Kurt and Jacob walked off as soon as the bell rang to do some coupley shit that Puck wanted no part in whatsoever, which left him to wander the halls aimlessly, unable to bring himself to go anywhere near the foul-smelling cafeteria. He got himself a Slushie and drank it as he walked around campus, scoping for any hot chicks that might make-out with him. He hadn't gotten laid in weeks, and that was totally not good for his stud reputation.

He was in the arts hallway when he heard the commotion. He recognised the voices easily, and would have without superhuman hearing. Rachel's voice was very distinctive, even when she wasn't yelling at her overgrown boyfriend.

Puck dropped his half-full cup into a trashcan he passed and began to run toward the noise. Just like he had thought, it Finn and Rachel causing the commotion, fighting about something stupid like calendars or football, and getting louder and louder as they screamed at each other. Puck stopped at the end of the hallway, just able to see them at the other end by the auditorium doors. His heart pounded in his ears and he grabbed at the wall to steady himself, his knees going weak.

Rachel was a goodness in knee-high socks and Mary Jane's, her face flushed deliciously red as she yelled at Finn with big words Puck knew neither of them understood. She reached around her long, pale neck and undid her little 'Finn' necklace, throwing it in his face and turning to run from him, her cheeks becoming wet as her tears began to fall and she put her hands over her face. Even from far away she was beautiful, and Puck gulped in a mouthful of air and sank to the floor as she rounded the corner and left his sight.

"Dude, you okay?" Finn's voice broke him out of his trance moments later, and Puck looked up at him, startled. Finn looked upset, his eyes red-rimmed and dark, but his tone was worried for the guy who had been his best friend for eleven years, despite their recent falling out.

Puck smirked and forced himself to stand up (why was he on the floor?) rejecting Finn's offered helping hand. Irrational anger flared through him like his veins were on fire; Finn had done something to upset Rachel, and all Puck wanted to do was gut the guy with a paring knife as slowly as possible.

"Fine," he said, shaking his shoulder out of Finn's grasp when he grabbed at him. "Bye."

He turned in the direction Rachel had gone and balled his hands into fists at his sides, clenching so hard that he left nail marks in his palms that healed over before a single drop of blood could fall. He didn't even realise where he was going until he pushed open the door to the girls' bathroom, but the familiar soft sounds of crying told him he had instinctively made the right choice.

"Rach?" he called quietly into the bathroom. The sniffling stopped and the room fell quiet as he closed the door behind him, flicking the lock so that they wouldn't be disturbed.

Puck walked up to the occupied stall he knew she was wallowing in and knocked gently at the door. "Rachel?"

She sniffled again, but opened the door anyway, looking up at him with her wet brown eyes. He had never seen anyone look so beautiful, not even when Quinn was pregnant with his baby; there was just something about her, something had drew him in and made him never want to let go as he carefully pulled Rachel into his arms. He finally understood why Jacob was so smitten with Kurt, if it felt anything like _this._

"Why are you here, Noah?" Rachel whispered against his chest, neither resisting the hug nor hugging back. Puck ran a hand over the back of her head, smoothing down her wild brown curls before answering.

"Where else would I be?" he answered just as quietly, as though talking loudly would break the delicate connection they had stirring between them. "The girl I love is crying by herself in a bathroom. I need to let her know that she's not alone, and whatever Finn did, it's going to be okay now, because I'm here to hold her and keep her safe."

Rachel froze and looked up at him, startled. "The girl you...? Noah, what's come over you!" She stared at him, suddenly noticing the changes in his appearance; the way he had seemingly grown six inches taller in just a few weeks, how his eyes had lightened, how is arms felt more muscular under her fingers than she remembered. "What on _Earth_...?"

Puck laughed quietly and tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling down at her like they'd known each other all their lives and had never been apart. "Rachel, we need to have a talk. A lot of things have changed since the last time we saw each other."

"Noah..."

"Don't question it, Rachel. Just _look_ at me and tell me you don't feel the same."

Rachel sucked in a quiet breath, not quite a gasp as their eyes met and electricity sparked between them. "I don't understand what this is," she said slowly, putting her hands against his warm chest and balling her hands in his t-shirt, holding him almost desperately against her.

"I've imprinted on you," he said, and leaned down to kiss her softly, as though she might break if he pressed too hard. She didn't resist.


End file.
